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Thank You and Goodnight...

2009-03-18T10:19:00.009-05:00

If we don't change, we don't grow.
If we don't grow, we aren't really living.
-GAIL SHEEHY-

So an Anonymous, But Fairly Nice Person just posted a very fair question to my blog.

"So this blog is pretty much dead, right?" they asked.

And it occurs to me that this person deserves a thoughtful response. If only because there's a single person out there who enjoyed what I put here, I genuinely appreciate that. I don't know. Maybe there's more of you lurking out there in the shadows, who might similarly wonder why I'm so silent. I thought a formal response might be in order.

Without making any sort of formal decision, I've decided to retire this blog. A couple of different factors have all come together to make this an inevitable decision. And a single inciting incident put it all into a clear perspective for me. I feel that this decision is inevitable.

Here's why I've decided to close the doors here...

First, I've undergone a bit of a job change. Working at the theater produces a different work-load for me, than previous jobs. When I first started this blog, I was working at a housing firm and I could spare an hour or so, a day, to write out a long, lengthy blog post. Something worth reading. I started THIS job in October, 2007 and initially I was sequestered downstairs, alone with my good friend, Jenn Kincaid. That allowed me some time to blog an occasional entry or two. But when, in August of last year, I got moved upstairs, right outside my bosses office, the end was in sight. It's difficult to produce a coherent thought when my old boss is around, much less produce any written work of any value.

Backstage, here at the blog, I probably have three dozen unfinished blog entries from August to now. I would start an entry, get three paragraphs in and then get pulled away by the work, unable to return. Those entries will just live backstage, never to see the light of day.

And it made it pretty clear that office hours are not good hours for blogging anymore.

Second, I originally began this blog as a response to a social change at my favorite social networking site, CIN. An online discussion forum for Chicago improvisers. A place where all of my favorite people met up to make jokes, post funny pictures and explore extended, online bits. Good times.

But then, some real douchebags in the improv community took over and made it clear that I (and a few others) were not welcome there and I decided to leave that board, rather than stick around and wait to be tossed out, publicly.

So, I started a blog. To have a creative outlet. And as a place to record the memories of my life here and my childhood, that I feared that I would lose to time. Of course, the more I wrote, the more I wanted to explore other things. I had a t-shirt contest once. I played elaborate jokes on people. I treated the blog like a newsletter about me, published for free, to anyone who wanted to read it.

And generally speaking, it was no holds barred. Everything was up for discussion. My past. My mistakes. My anxieties. My plans. My sexuality. My friends. Everything was open for discussion. With one caveat, I tried to keep my current romantic relationships down to a minimum. Girlfriends would feature in an entry, but they were participants in an adventure and less deconstructions of my actual relationships. Well, that was my intention, anyways. I can see that I didn't exactly manage to avoid it, all the time.

But with the addition of Facebook, I have a community of friends to interact with again. CIN, for all intents and purposes, is dead. The douchebags all fled in a single move and then a new crop of posters popped up and I think for some of us old-timers, it was a little depressing to hear the same old questions asked over and over again. And to notice the slow, quiet silence of old friends who didn't visit the boards anymore. As it turns out, all of those old friends are on the Facebook (in some capacity) so that's a good place for me to visit with them.

CIN no longer serves any function.
In the same way, my blog is less necessary as a refuge.

One more thing happened here, that is worth mentioning. I think it's relevant to my decision to close the doors here.

In late January of this year, oh, a month and a half ago, now, I had a really bad birthday. By sheer bad luck, the people that I am closest with were almost entirely unavailable. (Not everyone. I had a few close friends out for my birthday.) Let's just say that there were some faces that I was missing.

And there was a girl that I fancied a bit and that pretty much fell apart, right in front of my eyes, at the party.

And there was another girl that I had no interest in, whatsoever, who waited until I was too drunk to defend myself, before shoving her hands down my pants and molesting me.

And my solution to this terrible set of unfortunate circumstances, was the exactly wrong one. I walked calmly up to the bartender and asked him to knock me unconscious with booze. He obliged me. I even took the rare opportunity to allow my deejay to smoke weed with me, outside. So, I was functionally retarded, by the time I left the bar. Drunk, high, being molested by the exactly wrong person and feeling terribly, terribly lonely.

When I got home, it got worse. Joe was away at his fiance's apartment, as he is most nights now. The dog was happy to see me and that was a small comfort. I got home and I changed into my pajamas and went out on the couch to sit down, a whirlwind of self-destructive thoughts raging in my head. I sat down calmly on the couch and had myself a little bit of a breakdown.

I started crying a little bit.
And then I cried a lot.
And then the floodgates opened and I fell over into a fetal position and openly wept.

I questioned everything. I analyzed all of my recent decisions. I questioned all of my big life choices too. Who I was. How I got there. Where I was going. What I'd done wrong. I focused pretty hard on what I'd done wrong. In fact, I would say that was a central theme of the whole meltdown - the things I'd done wrong in my life.

Believe it or not, this stupid, silly little blog was a part of all of that. I felt ashamed that I thought that this blog was anything of value. I felt embarrassed that I'd ever opened up the doors for the general public to view it. It felt like the ridiculous and pathetic height of hubris to assume that I had anything of value to say and even worse, the tone-deaf expectation that anyone would want to hear what I had to say.

I mean, who does this? Who lives their lives so publicly? Who enforces such an artificial audience/ performer relationship on the people in their lives?

It just seemed to shallow and so vain and absolutely unforgivable.

To be clear, at the same time that I was questioning the purpose for this blog, I also decided that I had shamed my mother and that she probably only pretended to love and support me, when she really would like for me to just act like a normal person for once. So, I might've been trolling around off the deep end, a little bit there.

I cried myself to sleep on the couch. Alone in a ramshackle apartment that I hate. Surrounded by a larger city that I love. But as isolated as any man could feel.

The next morning, the hangover eventually went away, but the questions I asked myself stuck around. And I knew, without absolute certainty, that this was a dying proposition. I was probably going to end this blog, some time soon.

I was at the end of this two year experiment.

Some very good friends, Ian, Crescent, Kyle, Paul and Todd have expressed a genuine interest in this blog and what I have to say. For them, I tried to bake up a few verbal pies, between the end of January and now. But let's face it, they weren't very good. To them, and to anyone else out there that I don't know about, I encourage you to open other doors of communication with me. Come and participate with me in the half-hoakum stories that you read about here for a short time. There is always a place at my table for anyone who wants one. In any social setting. You're always welcome. (Even if you shove your hands down my pants when I'm too drunk to defend myself. Strike that, especially when you shove your hands down my pants when I'm too drunk to defend myself.)

I can feel myself standing on the edge of making some big decisions for myself. I am coming up on 9 years of being in Chicago. I feel like there are things here that I've not pursued, that I genuinely want. I feel like I am running out of time. I feel like I better get a move on, if I want to get things done. I feel like I am on the threshold of living somewhere else now, even if I don't know where that somewhere else is, just yet.

I also feel like this dumb zombie musical, might be my swan song. The last thing I direct or produce for a good while. I am enjoying the whole process, but there seems to be an imperceptible air of finality about this project. So, I'm accepting that and working with the assumption that there are other things for me, beyond this. Perhaps just not in the theatrical arts. The unforeseen challenges will be undertaken privately, without public documentation. Some of you will know well about them, because you'll likely be directly involved.

I guess this is the end bit here. Where I end things out.

Please allow me to thank you, whoever you are, wherever you are, for the times that you checked in here and read my dumb blog posts. Thank you for the very funny, kind responses. Thank you for playing along with me and humoring me, when necessary. And thank you for the lovely, private ways that you shared your lives with me. Sincerely, thank you.

So, leave a comment or two if you fancy it, close your web browser and let's meet up at the bar some time to share a laugh or two.

It will be good to talk about what I'm up to without two or three people saying, "We know this already. We read your blog."

It will be good to focus on living life, as it happens. Without partially checking out to make mental notes of a record that I want to eventually make of the event.

It will be good.

Cheers,
COB

"So goodnight, boys, goodnight!"
-The Decemberists-
-Shanty for the Arethusa.-

Some Sick Upgrades...

2009-02-25T01:39:00.007-06:00

Forgive my clunkiness. I am re-learning how to blog.

Life continues, even if I am not commenting about it. Even now, I am so tired from a fucked-up sleep schedule that as I am typing this, I am thinking "Go to bed. Stop typing and go to bed." over and over in my head. But then another part of me feels guilty for the recent radio silence. So, we'll see if we can't hammer out a quit blog post.

Because things are happening. There are things to talk about. To tell you about. I don't know who still checks this blog anymore. But the people who used to check it, might find this of interest. In any case, it can serve as a Message In a Bottle for you, waiting until the next time that you stop around.

"Sickest Stories" continues it's mad march into it's second year. While you've been away, not seeing the show (no worries, we're all busy), our audiences have been slowly and steadily increasing. At a recent organizational meeting (did I mention that we meet once a month now to prep for shows and look at long-range plans for the show) our very talented graphic artist, Alan, pointed out that the show had about 10 or 15 people in the audience, when he saw it in October of last year. Every show since then, is averaging 40 or 48 people, per show. Part of the growth is that we're growing a little more liberal with our comp program. (We now comp potential guests and a friend and since there's no shortage of people wanting to do the show, that adds an additional 6 - 10 people per show.) Beyond those comps, though, we're averaging 25 - 30 paying customers per show. And we get very, very few improvisers in our house. So, that works out to 25 - 30 paying, actual theater-going audience members. Very exciting.

And they have good reason to come see our show. We've added pre-show videos now. Jim Burchill, our videographer, creates these insane 20 minute long montages of short-attention-span clips. One second, you're looking at a karate fight scene from a 70's kung fu film, then you see a flash of a rhinos erect penis and then, WHAMMO, you're looking at Frankenstein dancing with Go-Go girls. There's no rhyme or reason to it. Just random, sick, dirty images flashing on the screen with barely visible subliminal messages flashed at you from time to time. (The pre-show video is messing with you, encouraging you to go down on someone, anyone, before the night is up. Dirty, dirty, dirty.)

The guest lineup continues to be as eclectic and insane as you could possibly expect it to be. In addition to two regular cast members (my staff) you'll see 2 or 3 special guest panel members. Last month, we had a friend of the show, who happened to be on "The Apprentice" last season. Next month, we're looking to book a guy who finger-banged Paris Hilton (before she was Paris Hilton). I don't know if his story is true. That's for the audience to decide. I just want that story to be interesting. Looking ahead, I've got guest slots from our favorite Magician, a Briton who has the most interesting Thailand whore stories, a return from our resident nurse and ... it's too early to say it... but we might be booking a Major Celebrity Type to come in and do our show in April. Cross fingers for that one, kiddies! (I'll spoil it here first, if we actually manage to book this guy.)

We have a sponsor now, too. In exchange for a huge stack of comps (retail value - $480), we're getting t-shirts printed for the whole staff of the show. The sponsor is a new bar, opening up in Chicago. The comps will be prizes given out at their Tuesday Night Trashy Trivia contest. Because their trivia will be every Tuesday, we'll be giving out 16 comps, every month, to come see our monthly dirty, comedy show. I welcome all of those comp holders, as the show is currently booking 40 of the 65+ seats at the theater. Even if they don't pay me cold, hard cash, these new sponsor-guests, will fill out my crowd, giving my paying audience members a fuller house and a better show. In exchange for the comps, I get these kick ass staff t-shirts.

I guess I can go ahead and spill the design for the shirts. Alan and I came up with them. I really dig them.

This is the front of the t-shirt.

And this is the back.

Here's a close-up of the symbol on the front.

Our sponsor is ordering 8 of those. One for every guy on my crew, Me, Greg, Fuzzy, Alan, Jim, Mike and Harz. And one extra one for Edison Girard. Who did the original design for that chip logo. I never got to pay Edison for his design work. So, I thought I would give him Something Special to thank him for working on the show, way back in the spring of 2007. (Shh, don't tell him. He doesn't know that I am doing this for him.)

My plan is that these "Staff" shirts are limited editions. For staff only. The only way to get one is to work on the show. Or blow one of the guys in the bathroom of the Town Hall Pub to get his shirt from him. Work out your own deals.

In the future, if I do another run of shirts, they'll have some different design on them. The only way to get THIS shirt is to be working on the show, right now.

And if the sponsorship between this new bar and our show goes well and they ask for another batch of comps in three months, we can work out another deal, where they print up ten regular SFS shirts for me, in exchange for the comps and I sell those to the first ten, paying audience members. Same deal. 1 design only. Once those sell, we sell another design to the next 10 paying audience members. All profit, of course, goes to the shows festival kitty.

In addition to that bar, we're also considering sponsorship from a local sex shop. I am working out the particulars for how this would work. I'm considering asking them to pay for the printing of some new marketing materials for the show. (I sure would like an exterior vinyl banner for the theater on show nights) in exchange for product placement on our website, our programs and our podcast.

That's right. We will very soon have a podcast. Fuzzy and I taped the February show. We designed an aural soundscape for the show. How it would sound. How it would feel. We recorded some intro materials for the podcast and the first one should hit this weekend. The second one should hit Wednesday or Thursday of next week. Our goal is to take each show and break it up into two different 10 - 12 minute clips, record a little intro for it and then post them, every two weeks. Once we get a small library of podcasts, 6 to 8 of them, we want to distribute them through Itunes. (Initially, they'll only be on our website).

A podcast was always in the plan for the show. I'm a big podcast listener. I know how much I value the podcasts that actually make me laugh or think. I particularly like ones that post with regularity. Between Fuzzy and I, we think we can release our own promotional podcast every two weeks. The whole point of them, of course, is to direct attention (national attention) back to the show. Which sells tickets, which adds to the show's Festival Kitty!

Also, a podcast is a fun way for our guests to relive their time on the show. And share it with friends. It's a thing I can direct my friends to and say, "Here. Listen to this. I help produce this." So, I do have some pride in the creation of the podcast. Fingers are officially crossed that the final product sounds as good as I want it to.

One more thing, before I close this blog entry out. We've been approached by another theater to come produce the show in their theater, as early as July or August. Rent is comparable to our current rent. We would pick up significantly more seats and the theater will feature a full bar. The theater is in a high traffic area of town and could be a big, big move for us. At the same time that we might move there, we're considering going to a bi-weekly production schedule. Every other week. I certainly have enough guests for it. Audience interest will be the final arbiter of that decision, though. No sense in moving to any theater, if people won't come out and see you do your show. (The same theater is also asking for the BBR to come to them. I'll be passing along email addresses shortly. That show has it's own very smart set of producers to figure that out.)

Oh and did I mention that we're adding a guy in a Penis suit to talk up the show, outside before it begins? Mine will look just like the one below, except we want to put ours in a collar, a black bow-tie, white gloves and a top-hat. Call him, "Mr.Penis!"

Yeah, things are looking up for "The Sickest F***ing Stories I Ever Heard" in 2009.

Cheers,
Mr.B

PS. Next time, I'll update you on SOTD, which is moving forward too!

Chasing Dragons...

2009-02-11T19:40:00.002-06:00

So, the video for my adventures in Chinatown have hit and it actually looks pretty good. The editing is smooth and the clips are actually pretty charming.

Check it out!

Cheers,
Mr.B

I am Slide-Showy!

2009-02-03T00:02:00.002-06:00

Greg sent me a link tonight to a cool slideshow of pictures that he's taken of me, over the years. He's got some pretty funny shots in here. My personal favorite is "I love ass". You'll know it when you see it.

Thanks Greg!

Enjoy,
Mr.B

Fuck Christian Bale.

2009-02-02T20:49:00.003-06:00

Seriously, fuck that guy.

I just listened to THIS audio clip of Bale throwing a tantrum on the set of the new Terminator movie. (Before you give it a listen, be forewarned that it's NSFW - Loads of profanity.)

So, here's the setup, Bale is acting SO HARD in a scene of McG's new Terminator movie, that the mere sight of the director of photgraphy - doing his job and checking the lights - set Bale off into a tizzy. A pompous, spoiled, raging asshole rant about this other guy. He threatens to kick this guys ass. He demands that this guy get fired. He refuses to come back to the set until this guy is fired.

And the guy - "Shane" the Director of Photography for this gig - has the sheer audacity to - apologize immediately?!? HOW DARE HE?!?

The director, McG, is called over and he isn't sufficiently outraged to mollify Bale. In fact, nobody but Bale seems to realize what a terrible offense this guy has committed. Why, it's tantamount to Bale tearing down this guys lights! Which he also threatens to do.

You know what? Fuck Christian Bale. Nothing he has done on film, so endears me to him that I can easily ignore this. He isn't fucking Batman. He isn't the Machinist. He isn't a master illusionist. He's a bully. And an asshole. And a terrible person. The absolute worst aspect of actors and hollywood that I can imagine. He's it.

I can't imagine the circumstances where this type of screaming, shitty behavior is acceptable. It's because the people he's working with are professionals, that he didn't get HIS ass kicked by everyone there. (THAT is the headline I want to read - "Christian Bale gets his ass kicked by Director of Photography".)

So, I'm done with this guy. Absolutely done with him. His star might be earning him 20 mil+ for his films, but he's no draw for me. I could care less if he's in this shit-ass Terminator movie (Spoiler Alert: The real older John Connors is a coward until he's killed, skinned and then his skin is worn by a terminator with the mind of a hardened criminal inside. There, I just ruined the fucking movie for you. Just like the writes ruined it by ignoring everything set up in the first two movies and tossing it out the window. I just saved you 8 bucks.) I won't go see this movie. I'll talk other people out of it. And I'll tell them about this audio tape and send them links to it and they can hear for their own ears, what a rotten fuck Christian Bale is.

I hope Johnny Depp shoots this shithead in the face in "Dillinger". I know it's not historically accurate, but that's what I want to see.

You know what, I'm skipping that movie too. The "Bale Ban" is in full effect. Tell your friends. Christian Bale is a total wanker. Tell them why. Send them a link to that audio tape. Spread the word!

Fuck that guy... all the way to the box office.

Cheers,
Mr.B

"Color Of Your Blues" by Money Mark.

2009-02-01T21:53:00.005-06:00

I finally broke down and bought this song off of Itunes.

I heard it in this trailer, a month or so ago, and it stuck with me. I would catch myself humming it, without knowing the words or where I'd heard the song. Yesterday, while I was searching for other music, I remembered the tune, remembered where I'd heard it, researched the title and then bought it off of Itunes.

The song is "Color Of Your Blues" by Money Mark.

And it punches me directly in the heart, every time I hear it.

I think it's sad and it's sweet. Some of the best songs are.

Color Of Your Blues - Money Mark

Check it out, if your heart needs a good punch too.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Chasing Dragons...

2009-01-29T11:43:00.004-06:00

I guess it's okay to discuss this now. I'm trying to hold off from mentioning new stuff, until they solidify. But this has been bumped up, so I'll go ahead and tell you about it.

Two weeks ago, I saw an ad on Craigslist for an audition for the host of a new webisode series that's starting up in Chicago. The concept behind this series is, "The Daily Show Correspondants covering Nothing But Chicago Stuff". So, a localized "Daily Show". An idea that I really dig.

And, honestly, my thought was, "If I can get three or four of these down and they don't look like shite, I can use this as my audition tape to become an actual Daily Show correspondant." As with most of these opportunities, I sent out my interest and availability, with the expectation that I wouldn't hear back from them.

I submitted several headshots, a letter of interest, a recent resume and waited. A week later, I got an email from the producer/director, saying that he'd researched me on YouTube and liked what he saw and asked me if I wouldn't consider becoming "The Chicago Guy" for his series of webisodes.

There will be several hosts for the show. Each one representing a different area of expertise. The Sports Guy. The Club Chick. The Theater Nerd. The Food Eater?!? Me? I will be The Chicago Guy. Dealing with Chicago events, Chicago history and representing the cities perspective. I don't know who the other hosts will be. I think that they're already cast from other sources. Me? I'm the king of this pile of miscreants.

Originally, my first shoot was scheduled for Feb. 15th. At the Chicago Auto Show. Doing a segment called "The Women Of The Auto Show". And I still might do that segment. I have to tell you, I've been secretly planning some Hilarious Bits for that shoot, if it happens.

Today, I got an email from the producer/director of the show and their correspondant that they had lined up for this weekend, had to cancel. She forgot to ask for work off for it. So, they have a segment and no host. I've agreed to take on the gig.

The segment is set to be shot all day, on Sunday, from the Chinatown New Years Eve Parade. The idea is that the segment host will give us a little bit of history of the Chinatown parade and Chinese New Years and then spend the entire segment trying to get a position in one of those Chinese Dragons and actually walk IN THE PARADE! Or RUN in the parade. Because, if they actually let me drive one of those Dragons, we ARE going to run. I promise it.

I shot an email to Greg to see if he's free too. I'd like to bring him and his camera along to photograph the whole experience. In addition to the segments, the show wants to also maintain a blog. And "Behind The Scenes" pics might also make nice additional content to the blog until the segment is edited and ready to go. I'm waiting to hear back from him, if he's available. And furthermore, if the producer is cool with my bringing him. I'm sure it will be fine, though.

So, on this Sunday, in the freezing Chicago cold, I'll don my best business suit, long underwear and heavy overcoat, pick up a microphone and chase dragons in Chinatown. Sounds pretty exciting to me!!!

Cheers,
Mr.B

The New SFS 2$ Off Coupon...

2009-01-28T18:21:00.003-06:00

I just gotta show this to people. Our crackerjack graphics designer, Alan Hawkins, prepped this for "Sickest Stories". It's the $2 Off Coupon. To be featured on Facebook and our own website. I don't mind giving off 2$ if it encourages people to come see the show.

And it just makes me laugh. I particularly love the clip-art that he used and the quote at the bottom.

And if you're so inclined, feel free to print one out for yourself and get some cash off at the Box Office. For any future production of the show.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Looking for something to do on Saturday night?!?

2009-01-28T16:23:00.003-06:00

You might consider checking out The Belmont Burlesque Revue at The Playground Theater on Saturday, at Midnight!

The girls will be there!
Jack Midnight will be there!
I will be there!
Will you?

Here's the deets, Little Bird!
See you there!

January in Chicago. Bleak. Desolate. Cold. It's the month when the interminable slog of the season really takes hold--where we all realize that in THIS town, spring won't be popping by until late May-ish.

But wait! Never fear! The Belmont Burlesque Revue is here! Replete with numbers so hot they'll scorch the roof of your mouth! Comedy so hilarious you'll feel the burn just from laughing uncontrollably! Patter so rapid fire you'll bask in residual heat-waves from the explosive discharge of wit!

THIS MONTH AT THE BELMONT BURLESQUE REVUE
See! Naughty Natanya unwrap a classy new tease!
See! Lady Annabelle shimmy herself into a frenzy!
See! MsPixy whip up a cocktail of delicious naughtiness!

Not to mention the inimitable comedy stylings of Ricky Carmona, the searing wit of Jack Midnight, the heart-warming buffoonery of Second Cousin Joe, and the sheer steaming stunnery of the Amazing Tomas performing world-class magic!

GET IT WHILE IT'S STILL HOT FROM THE OVEN!

WHAT: The Belmont Burlesque Revue
WHERE: The Playground Theater, 3209 N. Halsted Ave.
WHEN: Saturday, January 31st, at just a smidgen after midnight.
HOW MUCH: $10!!! Less than one week's allowance!
IS THERE PARKING?: There is exceptionally crappy parking. We recommend the spacious and cost-effective Elevated Train. Just hop off at the Belmont El stop and skip two blocks east to our warm and welcoming bosoms.
SHOULD I BUY TIX IN ADVANCE?: Only if you want to actually get in to SEE the show. Unless you prefer to stand in the street outside THINKING about the show, visit this link to purchase in advance.
I LIKE TO TOUCH ALL THE APPLES BEFORE I PICK THE ONE I LIKE: Preview photos and video of the show at our website: http://www.belmontburlesque.com!

We'll keep a seat warm for you!

With a wink and a shimmy,
Your Belmont Bombshells!

Greg Inda Photography is Open For Business!

2009-01-28T10:36:00.004-06:00

Greg Inda, Chicago's Best Undiscovered Photographer, is hanging out his shingle for his official-like headshot business. Greg is an INCREDIBLE photographer. Nearly all the shots on the SFS website are his. And he did both of my last headshot sessions. He's professional and produces good work and charges affordable prices.

Here's his official postcard. Give him your business, won't you?

I can't place my finger on it, but the fellow on the top of the black and white page sure is a handsome devil. Yes, indeedy!

Cheers,
Mr.B

Fear Is The Mind Killer.

2009-01-27T11:49:00.004-06:00

Thinking recently about last Saturday's meltdown and all of the factors that lead to it, I remembered something obscure and vague from my childhood.

I remember seeing "Dune" in the movie theaters as a kid and having my mind blown up by it. I didn't understand half of it. But I got posturing and ponderous behavior and I understood that to these characters - these were Very Important Things that they were doing and saying.

I also remembered the Gom Jabbar Litany Against Fear. I remember Paul using it to protect himself from fear. I remember the principle concept, that we survive the things that we fear. That by being flexible, we protect ourselves. Even though, I couldn't remember the exact words, I could remember the central ideas.

And so, I decided, today, to look it up and get the exact wording for my own benefit...

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

We will survive the things that frighten us.
This too shall pass.

Worth remembering, when people are screaming for economic doom and downfall and when businesses are closing and jobs are being cut, left and right. This, too, shall pass.

Cheers,
Mr.B

2009 Birthday Wrap-Up.

2009-01-26T12:37:00.005-06:00

I'm going to keep this one short. Let's just say, that this year, "Mistakes Were Made" and leave it at that. I made a few. Other people made a few. And they all culminated into being way too much more drama than I actually wanted for my birthday.

Despite latter shittiness, there was some fun stuff and some very cool stuff and I'm intentionally choosing to focus on that. For example, I would call this next picture "Fun Stuff"...

SHENANIGANS! (I particularly love the floral head lei, that Jenn saved from her party to share with mine.)

I would call this next pic, "Some Very Cool" Stuff...

That's a sketch, that my very talented friend, KAB, made for me. He took my current FB profile picture and turned it into a sketch. And even gave me a bit of a chest emblem, like a superhero. It's really amazing, what my talented friends can do. You end up with some very cool surprises popping up from time to time!

Even better, Kyle wrote a small message on the back of the card that I really appreciated. It says, "This is going to be one of the best years yet". I like that. I like that 2009, with the election of this new, progressive president and my own special projects, the year promises opportunities and fulfillment. I think it's ironic to note that this particular little note of confidence and reassurance came swimming up in the middle of an otherwise chaotic and terrible evening. I guess we can find pearls, even when we're knee deep in the muck.

I barely made it out of that party alive and intact. I am still recovering from it all, emotionally. I am trying to make sense of the night. My own actions and the actions of others. I learned some lessons from that night. Lessons that I'll be applying to future social outings. By avoiding the repeating of previous fuck-ups, I hope that I can help to make Kyle's prediction come true.

Cheers,
Mr.B

NBS on 10 years of Dr.Manhattan...

2009-01-22T01:03:00.002-06:00

If you know who Dr. Manhattan is, without my telling you, then you'll geek out on how awesome this is...

Everyone else should pass on by.
Nothing to see here.
This wasn't just a video clip.
This was a warning.
Of how cool March is going to be.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Written By The Author...

2009-01-21T11:21:00.003-06:00

I just figured out the title for my as yet, un-written autobiography...

"It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time."

Isn't that just perfect. The right hint of shabby optimism, coated in a rich caramel of regret and self-reflection. Everything seems like a Good Idea At The Time. It's only later, when the consequences arrive, that the scope of the Badness of the idea, comes into focus.

Yes, that's the title. And I'm sticking with it.

Now I just have to write the thing.
And also live a life that would be worth reading about.

Cheers,
COB

The Day After And The Day Of.

2009-01-21T08:49:00.004-06:00

Hm, looks like I got a little maudlin, last night. Trying to reach hard for something, even if I didn't know what it was. Oh well, it's where I actually was, last night, captured forever. I'm going to let it stand.

Today, though, is a new day. I've slept well. My Facebook page is filling up with good wishes and there's a rumor that my cubicle might be decorated when I get to work. Also, my good friend, Jenn K. is taking me to lunch. So, today is shaping up to be a good one. No time for anxieties or introspection. Today, I am riding a wave of goodwill, propelled forward by the enormous circle of friends around me. I do not deserve such good friends. I love them all, nonetheless.

Loosen your neckties.
Enjoy a drink.
Today is for laughing, eating and living!

Cheers,
Mr.B

From 33 To 34 in less than 30 minutes...

2009-01-21T00:04:00.000-06:00

According to this bit from Patton Oswalt, I get no birthday party for turning 34 in... oh... 22 minutes.

You Are Allowed 20 Birthday Parties (Album) - Patton Oswalt

(I should mention that some of this language is NSFW.)

I am sitting here on the 33 year old side of the age divide. I will be 34 in 21 minutes and I feel like I should have some sort of revelation. That there's something I've learned or did or said that will have some sort of relevance or permanence.

I'm sitting here, trying to think of something and nothing is coming to me. This time, last year, I was single. For a week. My girlfriend and I had split for the first time, after New Years Eve. And it was at my birthday party, where we got back together again. I remember being so happy that she was there. So happy that we got back together again. If you look at the pictures from that night... Here, I'll show you one...

..you can see how happy I am that she's there. None of the pain of the past week or so. Nothing but happiness to be with her. I'm so happy (and drunk) that I'm dancing. And I don't dance.

That was my birthday last year. Propelled from the single lifestyle, back into a relationship that lasted another two months before it finally flamed out.

In talking with Gilmore tonight, about something else entirely, I realized that it's a year later now and I'm still talking about her. Just last Saturday, Greg asked me about how that ended and thirty minutes later, I stopped talking. A well-polished, very well rehearsed, succinct re-counting of the sad story of "How I Was Never Wrong And Someone Else Was".

Now, sitting here on the cusp of another year ticking over ... in 11 minutes, I see how shameful and wrong that was. How disparaging of another human being it was. How I wish I had not done that. How I wish I had not been doing that for a year now. How I wish I'd chosen grace over my own petty weaknesses and been better to her. Afterwards. I wish I'd been better to her, afterwards.

So, I'm declaring a moratorium to that story. I'm shelving it away and never shall it be spoken of again. The next time someone asks me what happens, the answer that they get is... "It just didn't work out." If they get an answer at all.

9 more minutes of 33 years old.

Yesterday evening, in anticipation of this birthday party on Saturday, I watched an hour and a half of video of me from high school and college. After viewing the things I did and said, back then... I called my videographer and canceled the project. I hated myself (the person I was then) and not only did I NOT want to show it to other people, I never wanted to see that stuff again. I was an insufferable prick then. Worse than I ever could be, now. So desperate to be cool or smart or funny that I wasted time and energy, tearing other people down.

8 minutes.

6 minutes.

I couldn't bear to watch anymore. And I'm amazed that anyone who knew me then, would still want to know me today. Lord, I was such a bastard.

Maybe I'm blowing this out of hand, a little bit. But the fact remains that there was nothing in those videos that I would want to show other people, for any reason, shape or form. Even though that was my body and I did and said those things. That's not me now. And the person I present today, owes very little to that person. Life cannot be spent, paying penance for the self-perceived transgressions of the past.

3 minutes.

I wish me of today, could've given this quote to High School Me and let him chew on this for a bit. This is from Patton Oswalt's Graduation Speech that he gave at Broad Run High School...

1 minute.

“First off: Reputation, Posterity and Cool are traps. They’ll drain the life from your life. Reputation, Posterity and Cool = Fear.

“Let me put that another way. Bob Hope once said, ‘When I was twenty, I worried what everything thought of me. When I turned forty, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. And then I made it to sixty, and I realized no one was ever thinking of me.’

Time. And now, I am 34 years old. I am on the other side of that divide. And the last thing I did, at age 33 was post that quote from Patton Oswalt.

Words to take into 34 and apply to the years beyond.

Happy Birthday, Me.
Keep on trying.
Forgive yourself for your mistakes.
Forgive others for theirs too.
Try to learn from them.
Keep Moving Forward.
It's Going To Be Okay.

Cheers,
Mr.B

In keeping with the immediacy of this blog entry, I've selected the final picture of this blog from a file of pics that I keep on my Desktop, titled "Blog Pics". Throughout the year, I occasionally stumble onto a picture that speaks to me and I drop it in there. Usually, they go unseen. This one was pulled from that file and posted as the closest parallel to the themes discussed there.

And now, I post this entry, without edits, as close as possible to the cusp of 33 to 34. Preserved in the electronic amber of this blog.

Happy Inauguration Day, America!

2009-01-20T01:48:00.009-06:00

Something feels different, better even, today...
Enjoy it.

Oh and, you an create your own Shepherd Fairey version of any picture you want, by going here. I also strongly encourage you to check out Paste Magazine's Top Rated Obamicons.

Some of my favorites from the Top Rated Icons include...

And of course...

Get a Case of Inauguration Fever!

2009-01-19T18:01:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is the Obama election.
Best Birthday Present, I ever got!
In order to get you all hopped up on Displays of Democracy, I thought you might like to take a look at this little video, here!

Enjoy,
Mr.B

DUREX says "Get It On"

2009-01-18T20:44:00.001-06:00

Kudos to Kyle and Nat for passing this along to me. Hilarious.

Um, maybe NSFW. Watch it at home. You've been warned.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Get To That Choppa!

2009-01-13T01:22:00.001-06:00

In researching a pic for the previous post, I ran across this little photoshop ditty. I chose not to use it in the blog entry. But it was a very close second. And I don't want to waste it. I really think it's funny. So, I'm posting it here, instead.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Babies. Babies. Babies.

2009-01-13T00:26:00.003-06:00

WARNING: I should forewarn you. This post is about sex. And I have to use some sexual terms to discuss how babies are made (or not made). So, there might be some words here that could embarrass you or set off your work filters. So, you might want to avoid this post altogether. You've been warned!

One of the curious side-effects of joining Facebook is that you re-connect with your old high-school buddies and get interesting updates on who is losing their hair and who is getting fatter in their old age. (Luckily for me, I have both covered pretty well.) But beyond that, you also see who has married and who has begun having babies. Checking in with these people, 15 years after I graduated, these babies aren't newborns and preemies. They're two and three years old and are developing into little people.

And it makes me think about my own life and my own lack of baby.
And if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

For as long as I can remember, a baby was a thing to be avoided at all cost. A formless fear that peeked over the edge of the bed-covers at every intimate encounter. The little, diaper-wearing bogeyman. Just as scary as the thread of STD's.

Wear condoms! Or you'll have a baby!
Get your girlfriend on contraceptives! Or you'll have a baby!
If you're monogamous and you've slacked up on the condoms, pull out! Or you'll have a baby!

I'm sitting here and thinking about all the crazy places I've let my own orgasms fly - OTHER THAN in a vagina. Off a building roof. In a hole in the floor of a summer camp shed. In a wheatfield. Inside t-shirts, panties, neckties and once - a Superman cape. (Long story. Don't worry. I threw it away.) I remember, very vividly, the idiotic, half-collapse/ half-scramble that I've undertaken to avoid cumming inside a girlfriend. Better to collapse on the floor, sending the cat running, than to allow one spatter of my unstoppable man-seed near her womanly womb. So much effort put into avoiding this one particular fear - having a baby!

And I can't figure out how I feel so differently about this, compared to my former peers. Did they feel the same way that I did? Did they care less? Were they saying, "Eh. If I have a baby, I have a baby" and letting their jizz fly? Or were they trying to be careful, trying to avoid a baby, but UH OH - that orgasm just felt too too good to pull out and you fired your proton torpedoes into the wrong exhaust pipe and - blammo! You've got a rapidly expanding Death Star that doesn't explode for another nine months. And then, if you live in Kentucky and any of your parents are Christians, you better marry that Little Lady Death Star or risk getting your ass force-kicked by Darth Father-In-Law.

I wonder how many of these babies are intentional and how many were accidents.

I know it doesn't matter, in the long run. Each child is loved and welcomed into their families. But I wonder how many of these children were unplanned and how many were planned? And I wonder if unplanned pregnancies is just some unspoken epidemic that is going on, but that we don't talk about. Or if the voo-doo of religion has ill-prepared the young people of our country to think ahead and act responsibly and wait to have children until they can properly support them.

I recognize that having a baby changes EVERYTHING. It's huge.

No more farting around at "fun jobs". You have to work your ass off to give that baby (and baby-mama) health care. You have to bring home the paycheck and make sure the car is running smoothly and shop for birthday presents, Christmas presents, clothes for school, healthy food alternatives and diapers! You have to learn a new language - Baby Talk and not internally cringe, when you have to ask another human being if they've made a poo poo in their pants or not. You have to engage in serious debates with an angry, vocabulary-stunted, midget about why he can not go play in the yard with no pants or underpants on. Your wife's sexy boobs are taken away from you and given to the angry midget and the little bastards smiles at you, when he nurses, because he knows what he's taken from you. Tiny objects disappear from around the house and then show up three days later, deposited in baby-shit in a diaper! Insurance! Babysitters! Lunch Programs! Little League! The Ever Present Threat of Diarrhea!

You stop being an adult and a human being. You become a parent.
If you were ever cool or knowledgeable or hip, you become a worrywort, a wives-tale swapper and a disciplinarian. Once, you had "freedom", now you have "responsibilities".

I used to see nothing but the negative points of having children. The things I listed above and more. But I was always aware of the benefits too. The joy on a child's face when they figure something out. The sound of their laughter. Their sweet kisses. Or when you carry them around, while they sleep on your shoulder. Or the precious moment when a child unintentionally says something vulgar, racist or blasphemous. These are the magical moments that balance out all the drawbacks.

I get it.

I see the pictures of these old school chums and their new families and I understand that their lives are dramatically different from mine. I think we would both say that the paths that we've chosen have benefits and drawbacks. I know that even though the choices I have made have brought me new and exciting things, I am probably too old now to meet a girl, date, marry and have children at a reasonable age. (Assuming I have a child within the next four years, I will be 56 when the kid is 18. An old man, raising a rebellious kid, who is considering breaking my hip for me. And that's assuming that the years of red meat consumption and alcohol don't kill me before the kid graduates from high school.) In order for me to have the fighting chance that these other families have, I would had to have had my kids, a few years ago. Now, I am at a disadvantage.

My friends might tell me that the lives that they leave now, as parents preclude the adventures that I've been on. The places that I've traveled to. The wild spasms of irresponsibility that I've enjoyed. The incredible sex that I've enjoyed with many beautiful women.

Sometimes I want a family. Sometimes, I want kids.
Other times, I want to stay out late and produce my dirty, bullshit comedy shows for my audiences. Which is, I guess, a way of saying, that some days my life is pretty great. Other days it can be a little empty.

Comparing my own life against the context-less holiday pictures that I see on Facebook is a dangerous trap to fall into. Who knows, one of those kids might be the Anti-Christ! But who can tell from the pictures in the Holiday photo album? Every kid looks angelic and sweet on Christmas morning. Even the Anti-Christ. And when the Little Bastard grows to pubescence and he breaks the seventh seal and unleashes the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, spreading fear, disease, pestilence, war and death across the land - I'll be glad that I'm only fleeing in terror for myself. And not fleeing in terror for my whole family.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Voiceover Demo Recorded. (A Recap)

2009-01-12T12:10:00.005-06:00

Well, I have officially recorded my first Voiceover Demo.
Saturday afternoon at Soundscape Studio.
I was there for a little over an hour.

I braved the snowstorm in a cab from the theater to the recording studio on the South Side. The weather was bad, bad, bad. Blizzard snowstorm and the sidewalks were piled up with eight inches of snow. My feet were damp almost all day long. And because of the terrible weather, I was ten minutes late to the studio. No worries, though. Kat Hart and Mike The Engineer were just wrapping up with Jamie and Mo, when I got there. I met them outside and we shouted a brief conversation across Wabash Ave.

Inside, Kat Hart gave me a big hug and said, "Don't worry. You're going to do great today!" Which is, i think, atypical for a producer/talent relationship. But Kat Hart is also a bit of a stage mother and a cheerleader. So, the extra attention was appreciated. I have to admit that I was a little bit nervous about the whole experience.

Downstairs, I was given a mug of water to keep my throat liquidated and introduced to Mike The Engineer. I saw the recording studio and the mixing board. In front of it, was a plate glass window that showed the studio. Red walls and big, grey pads of foam on the walls. The mic hung on a boom arm, had a windscreen in front of it and big, foam earpads on the headset.

I entered the studio and set the music stand to hold my copy. We had selected 10 possible commercial spots and 5 possible narrative pieces. The commercials were designed to show a wide array of dialects, characters and voices. British. French. German. African-American. Southern. Dad-like. And formal speaking tones. The narrative pieces were a little bit longer and showcased the fact that I could also take dry, dramatic text and make it sound smart, intelligible and coherent. That I could breathe life into dry text.

We set the order that we were going to work in and went from there. Katharine gave me a short pep talk and ran me through some vocal warm-ups, counted me down and we ran through the first piece. A piece we titled "Climate Control".

"You Can't Solve The Climate Crisis! It's too big for one person..."

As soon as the recording started, the booth mic clicked out of the headset and I heard my own voice, warm, rich and full. It sounded really, really good to me. Supported and strong. Professional. It was a voice that I could easily imagine in commercial spots and voiceover work. And I say that, not as a pat on my own back, but as a new awareness of how good a professional recording studio actually sounds. And maybe my first glimpse at how I can actually, really and truly do something like this... for real.

Well, of course, because I was nervous, the first take wasn't usable. Nervous energy actually tightens up the face and vocal cords. When you are nervous, your voice gets higher and flatter, as everything constricts. So, we ran some more warm-ups and loosened everything up. I thought to myself, "you can do this, kid. Just relax. Pretend like you're a pro and you've done this a million times," and that worked and I did relax, considerable. The second take of that spot was much, much better.

"The Brauhaus has been serving up Good Cheer for 40 years in Chicago's historic Lincoln Square Neighborhood!"

And that's what we did for the next hour or so. Commercial spot after commercial spot. In some cases, we didn't have to do a second take. In most cases, we did one more for safety sake and then moved on to the next piece. If I nailed a spot or did a take that we all loved, we all high-fived. I high-fived in the air and behind the monitors, I could see Mike and Katharine high-five in the air too, simulating a high-five through a plate-glass window and from four or five feet away. If I fucked up a take or a phrase, which didn't happen often, I would stop and we would all have a short laugh and then go right back at it. Just like professionals. Focused on the job, working efficiently, but having fun with it too.

We finished all ten commercial spots and Katharine kept a good ear for vocal range. We want to demonstrate that I have high voices and low voices. A wide spread of characters. Occasionally, Katharine would ask me to try another run at a piece, raising the energy or changing to a chest-tone, instead of a head-tone. I would make the requested adjustment and try another run at it. Mike The Engineer commented that he was really impressed by how easily I took feedback and adjusted my performance for it. That's something a lot of other voiceover actors struggle with.

"There are many unmistakable characteristics that make a Bentley."

We took a little more time with the narrative pieces. Making sure that we got them as tight and as clean as we possibly could. I worked on breathing deeply and using my breath well. I worked carefully through each piece, making the sentences make as much logical sense as I could. The last piece that we recorded was the first two stanzas from a Garrison Keillor poem that I've actually quoted here before.

"A summer night, and you, and paradise.."

I'm a big fan of Keillor and hopefully he won't mind that I chose him as inspiration for my own voiceover demo. We did three runs at the poem. Each time, Katharine would push me for a more intimate performance. Something smaller. Something breathier. Something more passionate. She pushed and pushed and in my final take, I pulled my copy up closer to me and leaned in to the microphone and pictured Someone Special in my mind and delivered the poem to her...

"A summer night, and you, and paradise,
So lovely and so full of grace,
Above your head, the universe has hung its lights,
And I reach out my hand to touch your face.

I believe in impulse, in all that is green,
Believe in the foolish vision that comes true,
Believe that all that is essential is unseen,
And for this lifetime I believe in you."

I finished and there was absolute silence. Nobody spoke. And then Katharine clicked on the booth mic and said, "I think that's it. Grab your water and come in here. Let's talk." I gathered up the pile of completed sides on the floor and my water and walked into the other room. I felt like I had completed something. Like I had done something, but I didn't know exactly WHAT I had done. When I got into the mixing room, I could see that Katharine was a little red-eyed from the poem. I think it meant something special to her too. Mike The Engineer had a weird look on his face. Which I came to find out was a look of surprise. Mike and Katharine talked to me, from that point on, giving me their feedback.

Mike said, "I think you have a very viable, commercial possibility here. You have a voice that does dialects and characters, very, very well. But you can also navigate your way through narrative pieces well. Most voiceover actors can't do that. They can usually do one or the other. But not both. That makes you a much more marketable voiceover actor."

Katharine said, "Honey, you don't know it yet, but you just laid down a really, really strong voiceover demo. It has range and quality and once we get done processing it and laying music under it, you're going to sound so, so good. I smell money, money, MONEY!"

Mike said, "I also like how your voices and character work doesn't sound artificial. On one hand, I know that those are clearly not your voices and indeed are not even REAL voices, but they sound very natural. Not like a voice that you're putting on. Those voices sound very "lived in"."

Katharine said, "You should listen to Mike here. While we were recording your pieces, Mike would say, "Wow. He nailed that one" and was laughing, here at the console. And this is an older man, jaded, who has heard tons of voiceover demos and commercial copy. If you're tickling his funnybone, then you're doing something really special."

I bounced back and forth between the two of them, trying to take it all in. My old, Southern-Baptist training made me want to resist the compliments. It was a little bit difficult to sit there and take in such overwhelmingly positive feedback. Surely, I'm not all that good. And didn't I pay for this service? And does this ego-stroking come as a part of that package? I was a little bit cynical.

Katharine asked me, "How do you feel about it?" I answered truthfully, "I have no idea. It's all so new. I'm still just taking it all in." Katharine and Mike assured me that I should be feeling really good about my work and that I should be proud of what we'd done there together.

Mike said, "I understand what you're feeling. And when we get you in, in two weeks, and you hear your own voice remastered and cleaned up and laid on a bed or appropriate music, I think you'll be really impressed with what you did here."

And that's the plan. I go back in two or three weeks and hear the finished product. I also get a CD of the tracks and then they email the Mp3's to me. Mike also offered me a cheap possibility of producing extra copies of my disk, if I wanted to go that route. I send out my tracks to voiceover agencies in-town and anyone else who uses voice-work. (Video game companies, audio-book publishers and other talent agencies.) I take every gig that I get offered, regardless of the pay, and I build up a library of actual voiceover work, to add to my forthcoming website. I begin laying down a foundation of work to get me future VO work. That's how it's done.

So, that was my first experience in a professional studio, recording my voiceover demo. I thought I would tell you all of that, not to demonstrate how excited my coach and my engineer were, but to give you all of the information that I was taking in, in the process. The whole thing was a little overwhelming. I'm still processing it. I enjoyed myself. I feel like it was a step in the right direction. One more move towards being the performer that I want to be.

Onwards and Upwards,
Mr.B

EDITED LATER TO ADD:
I would be a very ungrateful voiceover student, indeed, if I didn't mention that you, too, could do the same thing. My voiceover instructors name is Katharine Hart. She is available to put you through the same program. You can email her at a hart felt life @ live.com. (Add that all together to make her email address. I've split up to spare her from spambots.) She charged me $900 for the whole process and I was able to pay that off in installments. I bet you can work out a similar deal with her. Shoot her a message and tell her that I sent you. She will likely say nice things about me. (My friends, Jamie and Mo, are going through the program, right now. So, this is very doable.)

After The Affair...

2009-01-12T10:29:00.004-06:00

Approximately two weeks ago, I met another woman.

I knew she was around. We'd flirted with each other before. A few years ago, I slept with her ugly sister*, but nothing really came from it. I mean, why not? Everyone else had. And everyone else had slept with this other woman too. "You should try this," people said, "It's addictive." they would say, with the same resignation of a weathered junkie. And I held off for a long, long time.

But then it was Christmas. And I was bored. I had a little free time all to myself and I brazenly walked up to this new woman, Facebook, and said, "So, what's all the buzz about, lady?"

And so she showed me...

I was avalanched under by friend requests from people I haven't seen in years.
Guys I barely knew in high school!
Girls that I lusted after in choir class!
People I worked fast food jobs with, before college!
College people I did drugs with!
Married! Unmarried!
Almost All Of Them, With Kids!
All of them asking the same question, "Where have you been these past ten or fifteen years?!?"

I made connections with people I genuinely did miss.
I made new friendships with high school guys that I didn't know very well at all, but who remembered me fondly.
I scrolled through gallery after gallery of Pretty Girls From High School, Holding Their Babies and I was struck by how consistent that is. The urge to procreate is a strong one, I guess. Or maybe the urge to have sex without birth control (because condoms remove sensation and/or birth control pills fuck a girl's chemistry up or just-this-once, baby, I promise to pull out) is just too strong too. And Wham Bam, Thank You Maam - There is a baby. Lots of babies. The Pretty Girls Curse.

Beyond all of that. Beyond the pointless chit-chatting and the "Hey, Have you Heard From This Obscure Person?" there were also the games and applications. On Facebook, I am a tough mafia guy, with a vast criminal empire. I also can trade Monty Python bits with buddies. I can also trade Old School Star Wars Action Figures with other grown men. I also have a "Shaun Of The Dead" random quote generator and I also have a new means to promote all of my upcoming shows. The perfect mix of fuckery and productivity. This little lady had it all.

And of course, I threw myself into the affair with an obsessive fervor. I got less actual work done. I "worked late" when I didn't have to... playing around on Facebook. I delayed working on my own shows. I spent an inordinate amount of time, at home, in my computer office. My DVR slowly piled up unwatched episodes of "Destroyed In Seconds" and "Extreme Home Makeover" that I have yet to watch. Laundry has not been done. My room is in desperate need of cleaning. Real life has been put on hold, for me to roll around in this affair. This regrettable dalliance.

Worst of all, I've neglected you, my blog. I knew that this was going to happen. When people asked me why I wasn't on FB, (Good Christ! I'm using Facebook jargon!) I would tell them, "Well, I don't want to have two different web presences to maintain. I put a lot of time and attention into my blog. That's where I want my focus to be." Which sounded perfectly rational to me, but to the wizened Facebook-savvy crowd, probably sounded like my admitting that I was afraid of the new technology. Truth be told, I meant what I said. If I joined Facebook, I would stop blogging. And I would lose the tiny, tiny readership that I enjoyed. Who continues to check blogs that aren't regularly updated?

And that's what happened. I joined Facebook. I stopped blogging. (And doing everything else.) I admit it. I got caught up in the whirlwind of online activity and I'm just now coming off of the crazy internets bender that I've been on.

Baby, I'm back. Here, I brought this jpeg of a bouqet of flowers for you. They're the prettiest flowers I could find in a Google search for "pretty flowers". This jpeg of "pretty flowers" is my way of saying to you, I'm sorry I've been neglectful. We've been together since 2006 or 2007 (Oh God, I've forgotten our anniversary, haven't I?) and we've had some good times and some bad times. And I took you for granted and I strayed, yes I strayed, and I want you to take me back.

Let's tell stories and lies to strangers again.
Let's capture my childhood memories and post them here again.
Let's tell sad tales of my break-ups, only from my perspective, and make my exes sound like crazy people again.
Let's post interesting of vaguely dirty news stories here again.

I can't say that I'm going to leave Facebook altogether. I have to know when people change their relationship status, the minute it happens. And I need to be able to promote my shows electronically to people in other states. But I promise to better balance my electronic doodling time, with the careful, thoughtful posts on my blog. I know where my focus is, baby. And you'll never go two weeks without updates again (except Christmas, but then those are the holidays, so that's to be expected). Our future is a bright menage a trois, with you, me and Facebook, happily co-existing together.

I know it sounds a little dirty and this might be too soon to ask, but would ou consider putting up a link to my Facebook profile? The idea of you two linking together... well, that's just Hot, baby. I'm not saying, do it, I'm just saying, think about it...

Cheers,
Mr.B

(* the ugly sister is, of course, MySpace.)

How I ended up in 3 Oaks, Michigan...

2009-01-09T10:54:00.005-06:00

So, this is a new development.

Last night, my voice teacher and I were having our last phone rehearsal, before I go into the studio on Saturday to record my first Voiceover Demo. We talked about the material we've chosen. About how we have a BIG spread of commercial types. Big character choices. Different ages. Different cultures. Everything but different genders. (Maybe that will be a choice for a future demo.) Kat (my voiceover teachers) says that our hook will be, the engineer or commercial producer hearing my demo and saying, "Is this the same person?!?" That's what we're aiming for.

My goal is to pick up Voiceover work in 2009. Laying a foundation that I plan to build on, in future years.

After we finished that business, Kat asked me if I was available and interested in teaching a six week improv course at her theater in Three Oaks, Michigan. The person that she'd previously contacted (a very reputable and knowledgeable improviser, himself) had backed out, due to concerns about travel time and his own busy schedule. The class is slated to begin in February and would be 2 hours a session, for six weeks. Pay is several hundred dollars.

I checked my book and I could actually make time for this, after all. It would entirely eat up my Saturdays for six weeks. But that's a short time, if you think about it. In addition to the two hours of class time, I would also have an hour and twenty minutes travel, each way. Which is time alone to work on my show or my own projects or read a good book. I don't mind the travel. I appreciate the short periods of solitude, framing two hours of improv class. The travel time actually makes the gig that much more attractive to me.

I accepted the gig and emailed my improv instructor bio to her and she was printing the flyers today to begin getting them out to the community in Three Oaks, MI. (Which reminds me that I should get one and frame it at home, to commemorate this particular adventure.) She's anticipating that I will have anywhere from 8 to 12 improvisers in the class. I'll get to work next on planning out my class structure, as an Introduction to Improv and Improv Philosophy.

I know that I will focus on some instruction time, using short form games to explore basic concepts of improv. We will talk about trust and confidence and listening. About support for your fellow player. About balancing between bulldozing and leading the scene. About the power of agreement. About heightening the game. You know, the basics.

Then, when they master those concepts, IF they master those concepts, we'll move into longer games and actual scenic improvisation. I'll encourage them to be themselves onstage or variations of themselves. I'll give them permission to try new things and explore the games wherever it may lead them. Above all, I'll encourage them to have fun. To laugh at each other and at themselves. Because I believe that that's the primary reason why people take an improv class. To have fun. So, the "having of fun" will be another primary focus.

To that end, I don't believe that I can make people have fun. That brings to mind images of myself wearing novelty neckties and doing funny voices and that just reeks of desperation. What I can do, is remove obstacles for the performers so that they can find their own way to having fun. I can increase the possibility of having fun. I can encourage them to lighten up self-pressure and to go into each scene, anticipating that it will be good for them and celebrating successes, while understanding the failure, without dwelling on them.

Oh yes, it will be precisely the hippy-dippy, improviser love-in that you think it will be. I'm not just making better improvisers. I'm not making career improvisers. I'm not teaching the next Jim Carrey. I'm making better people.

While we all have fun...

And learn a little bit about improv...

For six weeks...

In February through March...

In snowy, sleepy, small-town, Three Oaks, Michigan...

SOTD: Soundtrack Secured, Choreographer Contacted.

2009-01-08T11:33:00.004-06:00

I should just give up and resign myself to the fact that this blog is going to mainly be a tracking sheet for the show that I'm working on, from now through October, with some random other entries occasionally dropped in here.

Or rather, YOU should resign yourself to the fact that that's what this is going to be... for a while.

Here's the progress that I've made, since the last entry.

-The script is 98% formatted. I need to proof it and move onto the Scenic Breakdown. I should have them both done over this weekend. Once I have this done, I'll know song placement and cast size. Two big unknowns that are hanging out there, right now. Got to have them done, this weekend.

-I've started a Props List and a Costume List.

-I've written my Songwriter and haven't heard anything back from her, yet. If she bails, which she might do, I've got two backups ready. If I don't hear from her, by this weekend, I'll move on to my two alternates.

-Speaking of those two alternates, I'm meeting one of them for breakfast on Saturday morning. She's very excited to be working on the project. Kyle B. introduced me to her. I like everything of hers that I heard on her MySpace page. But the music featured there is nothing like what I need for this show. My plan is to meet with her, give her the lyrics sheet for one of the songs (probably the love ballad) and give her a week to see what she can do with it. If she brings me something nice for that number, we'll keep it in the show and then move onto other numbers for the show. And if it doesn't work out, I'll make a new friend in the music community and have an interesting trivia piece to include in this story.

-Sent a text message out to one of two potential choreographers for the show. I plan to talk to her tonight. I need help with "Don't Stop Me Now" and "The Zombie Shuffle." Hopefully, she'll come on board for this.

-Started graphic design for the show. Did some preliminary rough sketches for a poster and t-shirt design. I have a very rough idea for something and I'm hoping that Alan H. can turn my rough idea into something smooth, sleek and bloody. It's still very early in the process for this. I just had a wild hair up my ass about it and started work on it.

-Finally, Finally, Finally located the movie soundtrack, due to the Internet Wizardry of Mr. Ian K. It's all I've been listening to, since yesterday. I think I can use some of it for pre-show and bows. Also, The Blue Wrath is now my scenic change music, should I need it.

-Guess who has been shopping for "I Got Wood" t-shirts online? Yeah, this guy has!

-Potential cast members are continuing to appear, here on this blog and in real life. I think I've found two VERY good candidates for The Backyard Zombies! I also have leads on Shaun, Ed, Elizabeth, David, Diane, Phillip and I think I might have a VERY good Pete available. I'm still proceeding with auditions. I want to be available and open to the surprises that will come out of that process. But I could probably cast the show, right now, from people who want to do it. The first thing that I need to see from the cast - Enthusiasm For The Project. (All indications are good.)

-I've also been squirreling away some surprises for the show and the show's format. Direction ideas, staging ideas, etc. I'm intentionally not discussing them here. I want you to have SOME surprises, when you come see the show. I will tell you this much, though. I had an idea for a bit in the show that amuses me so much, that I had to call Gilmore, in LA and tell him about it. If all goes according to plan, it will be one of those moments when the audience will almost jump out of their chairs and cheer! It will be that cool!

Consider Yourself Officially Teased!

More Updates Coming, As I Get Them.

Cheers,
Mr.B

SOTD: The Musical - Location Secured.

2009-01-05T00:20:00.004-06:00

Heard back from the lovely Speedy at the PG and I've secured the Friday midnight slot for most of Sept. and all of Oct. for the show. The contract is IN THE MAIL. One week of tech in the first week of Sept. And then the show runs for 8 weeks from Sept. 11 - Oct. 30th.

Which means that I better finish writing this fucking thing and get it ready to go. There are blood packs to make.
Costumes to shred.
Musical scores to write.
Foam cricket bats to create.

Fuck. There's a lot to do. And the contract with the theater means that this thing IS GOING TO HAPPEN.

Yes, well, here we go then.

Some Quick Notes...

2009-01-04T11:41:00.004-06:00

None of these ideas or updates seem to warrant a whole entry to their own. So, I'll just lump them all in here, ifyoudon'tmind.

Throwing on the brakes.
Hanging out at the Town Hall Pub last night with Ian and this pretty little gal, Jessie. I like Jessie. I think she's cute. And she says Interesting Things in Interesting Ways. She's a little young for me, but that's not a serious handicap.

When she says, though, that she's currently dating a good friend of mine, I screamingly throw on the brakes. This is a good guy. Ian knows him too. I slam down the brakes, immediately stop flirting and, indeed, head over to the jukebox to pick out some music.

Because I have no business flirting up a girl dating a guy that we used to call "Three Finger Jimmy."

My Amazing Show Crew.
With the odds stacked against them (very little promotion, weekend after New Years Eve show date and an otherwise closed theater), we pulled off a top-notch performance of "Sickest Stories" last night. We had a half full audience (30 people). A few of the girls flashed me and got in for free. (Both pairs were really nice. Everybody wins!) Shaun H, one of the show's producers, came back to do the show and was in rare form. (Lithuanian Strip Clubs and Shit-stained Bed Linens!) The pre-show video was superlative. (Filled with subliminal messages like "Show us your tits" and "Blowjobs are fun!" and a prolonged sequence from BAT PUSSY!) The show content was top notch. Each storyteller got to tell their a story or two, the gameplay was smooth. I sat out to give Shaun some play time with Fuzzy and Greg and I watched from the side and that audience was having a blast!

Some HUGE laugh-lines from last night...

"This guy's dick was ten inches long and as round as a coke can! Um, if there's anyone here at the show on a first date - sorry!"

and

"She wasn't so much blowing me as she was crying, with my dick in her mouth."

and

"This guy didn't get laid a whole lot. So, he had to take his chances and piss on every girl he got. He figured, Why Not?"

And I got a good one off in the opening monologue...

"Don't worry folks. The story ends on a happy note. I took you through Mordor, but I'm going to bring you on back home to The Shire." Had to hold my story for a minute for that one to let the audience laugh for a bit.

Outstanding Show! Great Audience! Sharp, Funny Storytellers!

Oh, and I forgot to mention that we were listed over the weekend on Metromix's "Top 5 Date Events for Saturday Night." A bunch of folks mentioned that to me at the Box Office. Thanks, Metromix!

Battlestar Whatthephuque?
Am currently catching up on the last season of BSG, in anticipation of the next season on Jan 16th. Holy Christ - I HATE IT. Weepy episodes in the ladies cancer ward. Adama mostly absent. The Cylons are no longer a scary fucking threat, but are now showing up to ask for help. They NEED fucking Help! The entire convoy might as well head back home. Apparently internal civil war has completely castrated the cylons.

Oh and I'm sick to fucking death of people acting crazy. Chief Tyrol shaved his head, is crying a lot and playing with a gun. Starbuck is finger-painting in her bedroom and walking around doing high school theater class monologues about visions.

I realized, last night, that this show has de-volved to the point where it has NONE of the things that I used to like about the show. Adama, tough as nails, making hard decisions. Cylons putting on the pressure. Mysteries about the identity of all of the cylon models. Space Adventure. Spaceship battles! Baltar, bat-shit crazy and fucking people who aren't there.

Now, he's wandering around in a bathrobe and running a battered women's outreach program.

I've been told to be patient. I've been told that the last three episodes really turn things around and end on a high note. I hope fucking so. Because it's pretty terrible, right now. Television Drama writers have to walk a fine line between Giving Away Information To Satisfy Curious Audience Members and Becoming So Insular So As To Focus On Minutae And Disregarding The Forward Progression Of The Story.

So say we all.

SOTD: The Musical Continues.
I'm just about done formatting the script. I need to hammer out lyrics for the first song or two. Am a little behind schedule there. But not terribly so. Enthusiasm continues as people are learning about it and calling up to express interest. Casting this thing is going to be so easy. People want in, in a big way. I should have a top-notch cast, if all goes according to plan.
Emailed the PG to set performance dates. Haven't heard back from them yet. We shall see.

Voices For Sale.
I am heading into a recording studio on Saturday, Jan. 10th to record my first voiceover demo. So, THAT'S exciting. I anticipate that it will take about an hour. But, I plan to host it online and send out demo's to the voiceover studios here in town and start looking for that work in 2009.
I've been paying for and prepping this demo for 9 months now. It will be good to put this in the can. I think it will be a useful tool, moving forward. I'll post the tracks here (if I figure out how), once they're finished.

"Dear Zachary" - Watch This Movie.
MSNBC is showing this tonight. Set your DVR. All reports that I've heard, indicate that this is going to be VERY powerful. It was only in theaters two or three months ago and doesn't have a street date for DVD. So MSNBC is your best bet to check this out. Watch this trailer and see why you should watch this incredible documentary.

You can thank me later.

Cheers,
Mr.B

This guy knows a big pair of balls when he sees them.

Look Out for "BAT PUSSY!"

2009-01-03T01:02:00.002-06:00

I got an email from Jim, our resident videographer for Sickest Stories, asking if he could put "Bat Pussy" in his next pre-show video for SFS. I had to confess that I didn't know what Bat Pussy was. So, he sent me a link to it and my answer was a resounding "Yes! God Yes! We HAVE to have that in our show."

And this is the link that he sent to me. Get ready to watch something TERRIBLE! (Language is NSFW)

I have to forewarn you that it's video from a 70's porn movie and some of the language is a little bit crass. But there's no actual sex involved.

I sat and watched this clip and was just as perplexed as I imagine you are. Somewhere around the 5 minute mark, when they had the relatively closeup shot of Bat Pussy hippity hopping down the side of a Texas highway, I started laughing and I knew we had a hit on our hands.

My audience is going to eat this shit up with a spoon, I tell ya!

So, yes, Bat Pussy is going into the show!

Cheers,
Mr.B

Don't Count Your Friends Until They Confirm...

2009-01-02T11:34:00.005-06:00

Hello, Blog Readers! I am writing this message from the Future! It's 2009 here. Whereas, only a day or so ago, it was still 2008. 2009 seemed so far away and yet, here we are. In this future, Barack Obama is president for most of the year. George Bush Jr. was an eight-year long fart that people are flapping towels at, to chase it away. 2008 was a terribly long election process, that seemed oppresively hopeless at times. 2009 is the promise of possibility. The pre-show, warm-up to the space-age, futuristic utopia of 2010. I plan to be driving my solar-powered, hybrid Toyota in 2010 to my new job in the Lake Michigan Windmill Farm. Good times. Good times, indeed.

In the meantime, before things radically improve for the better, I, like so many people of the worlds, am trolling around the Facebook, poking old friends and commiting fictional crimes in Mafia Wars. As I feared it would, Facebook has swallowed me almost entirely for a week now. Tearing myself away to come blog here and/or get some actual work done, has been a chore. But with the office empty today and my boss gone until Monday, today is a little less frenetic. A good day for online playtime.

I thought I might share my thoughts on the Facebook, here in my quaint, retro-inspired blog (Blogging is so 1995, you know?) I'm still very much a Facebook virgin and I'm wandering around in its busy interiors, wide-eyed and naive to every new experience. Here's what I think of it all...

Facebook is fucking unnatural. It defies the ordinary stream of time and experience that we all live in. We age. We move cities. We make new friends. We leave old friends behind. We forgive ourselves for our past mistakes. We get permission to make new ones.

Not of Facebook, you don't.

Facebook is a giant cocktail party where every person you ever met, with access to the internet, is waiting to reconnect with you.

Your current co-worker? He's there.
Your childhood best friend? He's there too.
The girl whose breasts you spent the better part of your senior year trying to get a peel at? She's there too. (and her fantastic middle-age cleavage is also there in her pics.)
The kid you went to Summer Camp with? He's there.
The guy who snapped you on the ass with a towel in the locker room of football practice? He's there too.
People you don't possibly remember at all are also there and they're curious to hear what you've been up to, these last 15 years.

And condensing a decade and a half of life into a single 1000 letter wall posting is a humbling exercise in self-censorship. You mention the moves, the jobs, the pets, the kids and the marriages. You don't mention the boozy nights, the burlesque shows, the half-decade of improv, the near-misses and the parade of failed relationships. It turns out that you can really summarize your life, if you remove all of the nuance and context.

All of these people from your life, the friends, the lovers, the mates, the best friends, the acquaintances and the absolutely forgotten are mingling in this gigantic cocktail party, making their own connections in strange and un-natural ways. Change your status to mention the deli sandwich you just had your improv buddy mentions your big fat belly and the guy who used to date your sister says that you were a fatty in middle school too. And the shame of the consensus of disapproval from the various sub-strata of your past is overwhelmed by the sheer wrongness that your improv buddy in this state is conversing about you to someone you last saw twenty years ago! These people should not be meeting! Their only common denominators are you, your waist-line and Fucking Facebook.

As I said before, Facebook is wholly unnatural. It defies distance and time, by linking together people who should never be linked together and turning the normally linear time line of your life into a single mish-mash, flea-market with absolutely no criteria by which people are re-allowed back into your life. They just are. Because they can be.

And this gigantic, electronic swap-meet isn't just populated by actual people. Fictional characters are allowed in the door too. Not as user profiles, but as "Fan Sites", where you can adore our modern celebrities and get updates on their activities. Currently, I'm a fan of "Philip J. Fry" from Futurama, Batman and the Swamp Thing.

The Swamp Thing. And I get updates, when he comes lumbering up out of the Florida swamps to tell me that he's making a cameo appearance in the latest issue of "Teen Titans" and I probably shouldn't miss it.

Only on Facebook, man.

But lest this entire entry sound like a totally anti-Facebook rant, there are some good things to come out of my short time in this particular social network. Here's three good things to come from Facebook...

1.) My profile picture is deceptively sexy and bad-ass. I get crazy compliments on it, all the time. Which I'm fine with. Turn the lights up and that dark and sinister man, actually looks like somebody's dad, who could probably use a few hundred sit-ups. And a hairpiece. The profile pic, though, allows me to maintain the illusion and I'm down with that.

2.) I am now about to intimately track the romantic relationships of every person that I have any sort of interest in, instantaneously. If I think you're the least bit cute and you're within driving distance to me and your relationship changes from "In A Relationship" to "It's Complicated" or better yet, "Single", I am going to pay more attention to you. That's all. What? You thought I was going to ask these girls out or something? Right after they got out of a relationship? No way. I'm going to lay the groundwork now and be the much more attractive, better option, later down the road.
Jeez, what kind of a skeevy jerk did you take me for?

3.) The other good thing to come out of Facebook is my near total immersion into the online, members game, "Mafia Wars". I love it. I've created an online, alter ego, Carlo "Sticky Moustache" Gambrano. (Long-time readers will probably recognize where that nickname came from.) I rob banks. I knock over museums. I whack mafia guys. I own property. I outfit gang members with vehicles and weapons. I fight other mobsters. It's a blast.
And The Turk, Ron and two other guys I "know" from Facebook are playing it with me.

One of those guys is a guy that I used to know in high school and haven't seen in 16 years. He's back home in Louisville. I think he has kids now. We haven't really gotten to know each other very well in Real Life, but in the game, we're in the same gang. He asks me questions. I answer as best as I can. When I see his energy is low, I shoot him an Energy Pak. We hardly know each other, but we're playing this game together. And because he joined my crime family, I was able to buy a restaurant that actually makes me a lot of money. So, i feel genuine, In Real Life, gratitude to this person, who is far away from me, both temporally and geographically.

I would also be a cold, heartless bastard if I didn't mention that Facebook has brought me in connection with some really wonderful adults that I only previously knew in their larval stages in high school. We were all a-holes, dweebs and dipshits in high school. In the interim, 15 plus years, we've all shed our awkward, doofus goofus exteriors and become fully-rounded adults. Or at least adults, capable of mating and popping out offspring. Which changes EVERYONE'S perspective. Facebook allows me to re-connect with these people and these are the pockets of the cocktail party where I find myself lingering, posting to walls and sifting through picture albums. Enjoying the good lives of people that I now appreciate more fully.

I avoided Facebook for so long. Now that I'm here, yes, my productivity in my blog and work has slowed. Yes, I am befuddled by Friend Requests by people with the most obscure connection to me. Yes, I am coming across ex-girlfriends. Yes, I am talking to people who make me a little uncomfortable. But by and large, the experience has been a good one. I am enjoying myself. I am glad I signed up for it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Finis the Consigliere and Joey The Turk and I have to plant a car-bomb under Don Corlaone's car. That lousy bastard has stolen the name of a venerated brother of La Cosa Nostra and MISSPELLED it. For this slight, he must be punished and he will meet a temporary oblivion in a fire-storm, when he starts up the keys of his car. In the way back from the job, the boys and I might mix it up with a Haitian gang or take a quiz to see which member of "The Office" cast, we are most compatible with. I'm hoping for Jim, but I'll probably get Andy. Whatever. As long as it's not Dwight.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Happy New Years To You...

2008-12-31T17:10:00.006-06:00

As the waning hours of the final busy work day of 2008 fall into the past and the evening of celebration looms ahead, I wanted to take a second and wish you a very Happy New Year.

I sincerely hope that the new year, 2009, is a happy, safe, healthy and prosperous one for you. The sins of the past fall off of us all like cobwebs in the attic and everything ahead of us is Opportunity.

I hope you find new experiences, new pleasures, new tastes, new joys in the new year. I hope that you meet the changes that you undertake, either voluntarily or otherwise, in 2009, with resilience, flexibility, strength and grace.

Let me close out this entry with a quote that someone just forwarded me in an email. I couldn't agree with it more...

We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.
~Edith Lovejoy Pierce

Have a Happy New Year, All of you Lovely Goddamn People!

Cheers,
Mr.B

PS. If you're out and about tonight and are looking to raise a glass with me, you'll find me at The Town Hall Pub tonight. After considering the many lovely party invitations, I think I'm going to spend the evening in my pub of choice, looking as sharp as I can manage, surrounded by friends and strangers, and slowly pickling my liver in vodka and cranberry juice. I have no plans to meet anyone there. I have no idea where I will go after that. I enter the evening devoid of plans, armed with a sharp suit, a flask of black cherry vodka and a few twenties. Ready to embrace whatever adventure comes my way. Oh... and I plan to kiss every pretty girl within arms reach, when the clock strikes twelve. On that you can depend...

Snowed In? Oh Well, There's Always Facebook.

2008-12-23T18:12:00.004-06:00

I just got a notice that my 8:50pm flight to Louisville has been delayed until 11:30pm. Buuuuuuuuuuut, I should still get there by 8pm, so that I can get a comfy seat for my nearly three hour wait. (And that's assuming that my plane actually takes off.)

I should be annoyed by this, but I'm really not. I have a good book to take with me ("American Gods" by Neil Gaiman) and the final two Alan Moore, Swamp Thing graphic novels. And a full ipod of music, Venture Brothers episodes and podcasts to keep me entertained. If all else fails, I can lean up against a wall somewhere and catch some z's, at least until the snoring alerts security and they send someone see what the deafening racket is.

I'm fine with the delay. The great big fat snowflakes that are covering my city in a big, white blanket right now doesn't mean to do me any harm. It just is. Snow just snows. There's not too much to be said beyond that.

And there are worst places to be, than busily occupied in an American airport. Like, work, for example. Being at work would be worse. Being buried alive under an avalanche would be worse. Pompei, looking up at an erupting Vesuvius would be worse. Or pushing through a high-rise plate glass window to prove to an intern how strong it is, would be worse. All things considered, I don't mind the airport. I don't mind the delay.

The holiday has officially begun, when I walk out this door. This is cause to celebrate.

If I owned a laptop, I could spend my idle time, farting around on Teh Facebook. Of which I am now a member. After a friend (Brandy) talked to me about it today, I decided to join the damned thing. She said, "You'll see so many people on there that you haven't seen in a while" and I do. I think I have 80+ friends right now, with more trickling in from the 300 contacts in my email contacts list. People pop up and write a funny message on my "wall" and then disappear again. My friends are a strange mix of Chicago Friends and High School Friends and College Friends. Three distinctive phases of my life, blending together in some sort of surreal, chronologically-dissonent, massive cocktail party. The girl that I used to drool over in high school is "friends" with me, right next to the girl that I drool over, these days. Former teachers. Former enemies. Former Lovers. Current friends. All mashed together in a hodge-podge of faces and cryptic messages "Remember me from high school? We didn't really talk much. But I remember you." As I said, it's strange to be a participant in this whole, robust online community. There are all new rules of engagement to learn, new mistakes to make (What do you MEAN that message I wrote on your Wall was publicly posted?!?) new levels of non-communication to negotiate.

It would've made a great time waster, while at the airport. And a good ending to a day that started out weird. This morning, while riding the bus to work, I called and contacted an old high school/ college buddy, Alan K. There's a gathering on Friday, after Christmas at Kevins house for old Western alums. We decided that we should try to get Alan there and an internet search for his phone number lead to his brothers house and his brothers wife gave me his cell phone number and we actually talked on the phone for twenty minutes, at work today. Alan is going to try to make the party on Friday. I hope he does. It will be good to connect with him again after an 11 year absence.

Today has been a day for re-connecting with the ghosts from the past.
For forgiving myself for who I am today, as compared to who they thought I was, then.
This sounds totally gayballz, but I'll say it anyways. The whole time, today, that I've been diving deep into my past, on teh Facebook, I've been thinking about Benjamin Button and how steadily and maturely, he navigated the forces of his life. The things you can't take back.
The things you wished you'd done.
The people you've crossed lives with.
The places you've been.
The person you used to be.

I've been confronting all of those things with a steadiness and a reassurance of self that I normally don't have. I accept who I am now. I accept who I was before. I forgive myself for the dumb things I did in the past. I forgive the people who did cruel things to me.

From this perspective, everybody you meet or have met is your "friend".

Something to mull over as I pass the minutes and hours in Chicago's Midway airport.

Go Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, Now.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Two True Tales From The Chicago Improv World.

2008-12-23T16:04:00.004-06:00

I made these two little cartoons for a thread on CIN and it looks like I forgot to post them here. I think that they're actually pretty funny. The best part of both cartoons is that they're 100% true.

And they're intentionally drawn poorly. (That was a style choice of that thread.)

Enjoy,
Mr.B

(you might need to click to embiggen these.)

The MakeOut.

The TJ Scam.

(For those not IN improv, TJ is the name of one of Chicagos current improv gurus. And with good reason. He's a really nice guy and knows his shit about improv.)

For point of reference, here's one of his Sonic commercials. He's the guy on the left. We obviously look nothing alike.

So, now that it's been pretty fully explained to you, you get the cartoon, right? Right?

Fuck you, then.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Saga of The Swamp Thing...

2008-12-22T15:34:00.003-06:00

Thanks to Hendo, I recently filled in a bunch of the holes in my graphic novel collection. Specifically, I've completed my runs of James Robinson's "Starman" and the entire run of Alan Moore's "Swamp Thing". (He also hooked me up with the entire run of "The Invisibles" and "Transmetropolitan" and some other cool books.)

Currently, I'm working my way through Alan Moore's incredible run of "Saga Of The Swamp Thing." Apparently, it was just another crappy little book, on the verge of cancellation when DC allowed Moore, then a relatively unknown comics author, permission to run with "Swamp Thing".

The first thing that he did was kill the character off.

Which was genius.

The hook of the book was that his guy, Alec Holland, was in his swamp laboratory, when he was attacked by bad guys. The lab exploded. Holland burned alive and at the last second, fell into the swamp with Unknown Chemicals. And was reborn as the Swamp Thing. Alec Hollands mind in a very strong body made of tree limbs, moss, etc. Of course, the first thing he did was wreak revenge on his attackers. And then he spent the almost every issue, since then, looking for a cure for his condition.

Moore felt that this limited the character. To have one's singular existence revolve around a central question - "Will Alec Holland ever become human again?" - limited his focus as character and writer. So, Moore killed Holland almost immediately and spent his first issue conducting an autopsy on the Swamp Thing's body. Where it was discovered that everything internal was also vegetable matter, mimicking human function. Alec Holland died in the accident, but his "soul", if you will, was inherited by the swamp muck and went about, thinking it was Alec Holland. Of course, the Swamp Thing regains consciousness and eventually finds out what he isn't - anything human - and what he is - alive, nonetheless and begins an existential journey that lasted several years in the book.

Once the character died for once and for all, the book finally kicked into high gear.

And of course, it's brilliant. Alan Moore's Swamp Thing fell in love, had sex, got married, saved the world, learned about how things really work. In the issue that I'm currently reading, his wife, Abby Chase, has been photographed having sex with him in the swamp and is labeled a sex offender. She skips bail, heads to Gotham City and the Swamp Thing heads there, looking for her, by surfing the web of all living things, between Louisiana and Gotham. When he gets to Gotham, the Swamp Thing basically flips out and activates every living plant in Gotham to swallow up the city into an island of Eden, weaving through the building canyons of the city. On the page before I stopped reading, Batman stands on a gargoyle looking down and the newly re-forested Gotham, grimly assessing the situation.

I'm just about to read his story "My Blue Heaven", where a lost Swamp Thing, surfs through the universe and ends up on an unpopulated blue planet, where he uses his plant powers to create simulacrums of everyone he knows, to keep himself company. Of course, they're not the real people and he realizes that they only know what he tells them and say what he knows and he's forced to admit, again, that he's entirely alone. It's called by some, a heartbreaking exploration of loneliness and depression.

And here's where I find myself marveling at how good this book is, some 22 years after it was originally written. I want to walk up to people and say, "Hey man, how cool is THIS shit, huh? That bit where the Swamp Thing erupts out of a single rose in the courtroom, covered in roses and thorns, that was pretty bitchin', wasn't it?"

But there's no one to say it to, since the odds are unlikely that anyone around me is reading the book too. Or has ever read the book. Since comics are a relatively unpopular art medium. And within it, there are so many different titles and stories, that two comics fans can meet and talk and find out that neither of them has read the same stories.

So, that's it. I'm reading a really incredible, terribly smart book, which is subtly altering my perceptions of what's possible in a told story and I really don't have anyone to share it with. So I post about it here...

Cheers,
Mr.B

Out On The Frozen Tundra: A Weekend WrapUp

2008-12-22T10:53:00.011-06:00

Well, this was a pretty good weekend, actually.

Friday was a work day that refused to end. I walked out of the theater at 7:15pm to talk up to the theater for a 7:30pm curtain of our current holiday show. (My third time seeing it this season.) My good friend, Ian, came out to see the show with me and we generally agreed that it was a good show. Afterwards, we caught dinner over at Clarke's, right next to the theater. It was good to catch up with Ian. I forgot how funny he is and we laughed about girls, dating, theater and our jobs for a while. A great time. Ian and I caught a cab over to Katie B's holiday party and while we were there a little late, we DID catch a few drinks and bull-shitted with Megan P. for a while. Again, the company was so good, that I laughed until the back of my head hurt. Good friends.

Saturday was a work day. I slept until 10am, caught some lunch and then went in to work at noon. My boss was in the office and we worked together for 45 minutes, as I finalized some stuff for the imminent London trip. I walked out of the office at 2pm and then caught a bus and then another bus down to the South Side for my afternoon voiceover lesson. After months of work, we're just about ready to head into the studio and record my first voiceover demo. That will happen on the first Saturday in January. We've got 6 or 7 commercial spots ready to go. And I'm researching 2 or 3 more narrative pieces to go with those. All in all, we'll records 10 different spots in about an hour. I'll get a CD of my works and then have them email mp3's of the spots to me. After that, i set up a website and begin campaigning for voiceover work. If that starts coming home to nest, 2009 will be a very good year.

Another International Stinger Holiday Special.

Saturday evening, was the second performance of the "International Stinger 2008 Holiday Spectacular". In past years, we've done a Holiday-Themed show, a show from an all-elf cast, a Dickens-style holiday show, a Hanukkah show and this year we did a "Late 70's, Early 80's Holiday Television Special" (from backstage). One of our theatrical conceits was that we would open the center of the upstage curtain and perform, with our faces pressed to the back wall. This indicated to our audience, that they were backstage at the show, watching the performers interact without the pressure of performing. And because it was a holiday special, we had an interesting mix of "novelty acts" like plate spinners and jugglers and late 70's celebrities (William Shatner, Pam Dawber, David Hasselhoff) conversing, hanging out and prepping to do the show together. Romances blossomed. Sabotage Occurred. At one point, in rehearsal, a seeing-eye gorilla took a gun and shot Todd Bridges onstage.

This last show, though, was probably the best of the bunch. It opened with me as Kenny Rogers talking to Cindy Lauper (a playful, bouncy, Melissa H). We were scheduled to do a duet together and I was nervous about it. Ben played "Pigeon Pete", an urban-animal trainer who taught pigeons and rats to do tricks. Before the show, Ben and I ran to Ragstock and he bought a red and white, holiday pimp hat. Ironically, "Pigeon Pete" was so laid-back, that everything was "coo" with him. Which was also how he addressed his caged pigeons "cooo!" Todd S was Mr. Belvedere, who was there to do some "Holiday Welding". Erin was the beleaguered stage manager, wearing an elf hat. Kathy B. was the World's Worst Tumbler. She wore a green, 1980's dress and a high-tight permed wig and was determined to get every celebrity to sign her breast. (We learned early on that she'd had a mastectomy and wanted us to sign "the good one".) Intrigue reared it's head when a stage hand delivered a letter to me from Dolly Parton, who was in the audience. We had broken up our act and there was trouble between us. But in her letter (playfully voiced-over by Chrissy), Dolly was ready to reconcile. (There was a funny bit where Erin came onstage and asked me what was going on. I told him I had a letter from Dolly Parton and that he had to read it. He accepted and we both looked over at Chrissy, who refused to read the letter again. After an awkward pause, I told him to read it "outloud", we both broke for a second, onstage and then were swept off of it. A really funny bit.) We had lots of fun with the Pigeon Pete character, at one point, his rats and pigeons were released and it looked like he was going to have to go on without them, but he was able to lure them back with an R&B rendition of the Pigeon Call. I swept that, since all other Stingers were onstage to be rats and pigeons. While Erin juggled behind me, I went out into the audience and addressed the only blonde lady in the audience, "I got your note" I said to her and we all knew that she was now Dolly Parton. I apologized to her for how I acted in Reno and that she was right to throw that tv set at me. I wanted her to know that I missed her too. And that i was sorry that we broke up the act. I told her that it was my Christmas wish that we would do the show Finale together. The lady was NOT having it. She laughed and laughed, but wouldn't make eye contact with me. Her friends cheered her on, but she kept waving me off, saying, "No. No. No. I can't. Thank you, Kenny, but no." She was laughing through the whole thing, so I knew I wasn't pushing her too far. I walked away from her, but turned back at the last second and sang a little bit of "Lady" to her, before I walked away. Big laughs on that. A few scenes later, the red light came on and it was time to wrap things up. Pigeon Pete and Mr.Belvedere were onstage talking welding and I grabbed the backstage mic and walked out to address the audience as Kenny Rogers. I ham-handedly connected my country music career and "I'll Be Home For Christmas" and Chrissy came out with her flute and Todd entered with his guitar and she played the opening chord and Todd strummed along with her and the whole cast joined me for "I'll Be Home For Christmas". I walked over to "Dolly Parton" and tried to get her to come onstage with me. She tried to crawl into her sweater and hide. When it looked like it was a "no go", I broke down and cried and screamed at her, "DOLLY PARTON, YOU RUINED MY LIFE! I'LL NEVER WORK WITH YOU AGAIN! ALSO, I SLEPT WITH YOUR SISTER IN TULSA OKLAHOMA, SHE LOVED IT! LIVE WITH THAT!" while everyone else held it together with the song, behind me. Lights faded down at the end of the song and over the mic, in the dark, I yelled "Fuck it!" and threw the mic down. When the lights came up, we got big applause, I apologized to Dolly Parton, we took our bows and that was the end of the night. It was one of of those nearly perfect shows, from start to finish. A perfect illustration of why this troupe is so special. A nice watermark of the work we can do together. I love my troupe.

After that show, I went to the Town Hall pub to have a drink and enjoy their holiday party. Santa Mees showed up and I sat on his lap and he gave me a kabuki mask and shirt. I also got holiday glow sticks, which I hung from my Kenny Rogers glasses. Greg got pics of those. I'll post them, when i get them from him. I hung out with Sam the bartender and Todd S. and Ben Parker for a while. The guys from The Senate were there and we got to hang out a bit too. At 11:30pm, it was time to settle my tab (13$, a raping that I griped about and then tipped over, a ritual between Sammy and I) and head to the theater for the BBR.

Visions Of Sugarplums.

I have to admit, I was pretty nervous, walking in there. I don't know why. I guess I was still a little bit ashamed about the conditions under which I left the show. But I needn't have worried. Everyone there was happy to see me. Lots of hugs all the way around. Pre-Show with Hendo was effortless. He helped set the seats out, i took care of front of house. We got our audience in, as quickly as possible and then the show began. After that, it was like old times, again. Hendo and I played together onstage, easily and naturally. I think I did a good job of complimenting his work, without competing with him. Setup for the acts went without a hitch and Hendo and I even found ourselves playing small parts in Titi Touche's striptease. The audience was a little quiet and we had two hecklers in the back that we had to quietly shush, late in the show. All in all, though, it was a pretty good show. The cast treated me wonderfully and it was fun being back in that costume and that character again. I got off a few good lines and only one mis-fire and had a blast.

After the show, we adjourned to the Town Hall Pub for post-show cocktails. Greg, Hendo and I ate pizza and drank our drinks. Hendo bought a round of shots for us all. Sitting there, between those two guys, overdosing on holiday cheer, I was as happy as I've been in a long time. It was good to be back with those guys. I've really missed them both.

Greg and I were leaving around the same time and we ran into Katie B and her friends outside the Town Hall. They invited us to an After-AfterParty at the UnderBar and we went. Greg and I make it a rule never to turn down a request by a pretty girl to go to a bar, with them. It was a short cab ride to this other bar, which I'd never been to before. At the bar, she and I caught up a little bit and I met her friends, Deepok, Chauncey and the Really Drunk One. Never caught his name, but he did say some really nice stuff to me about how much he enjoyed seeing me in the show. It was very sweet. Later, Chauncey learned how to twirl glowsticks in a circle, all trippy-like, but then he lost his grip on one of them and it went silently arching through the air to land somewhere behind the bar. A few of the drunks gave us the stinkeye for that one. But Chauncey apologized to the bartender and she gave it back to him, securing his promise NOT to go tossing it around again. It was pretty funny.

Fucking Freezing.

The party broke up around 4 in the morning and Greg and I stepped out of the bar into the Frozen, Fucking Tundra. Because the bar was right next to the viaduct on Western, we knew that we would have a short walk to catch a cab. So, we traipsed up Western, crunching hard snow drifts underfoot. The wind was blowing insanely strong and it pushed us both up the street. At times, I couldn't hear what Greg was saying behind me. The wind was that loud. My ears felt like they were on fire, they hurt so badly. At the bus stop, Greg wrapped his scarf "Baghdad Style". All I could see was his eyes. I re-wrapped my scarf and pulled down my hat and wrapped myself as tight as possible and waved for cabs until we thought we were going to freeze to death. (I found out later that the wind chill was -30 below.) It was terrible. The coldest I can remember being in a long, long time. A cab finally came and we were on our way.

Sunday was pretty uneventful. I slept in and ordered Chinese for lunch. The wind was still up and it was -30 degrees during the middle of the day. I watched the first disk of "The Two Towers" and cleaned my room a bit. Late in the day, I did some Christmas shopping. The weather being what it was, I settled for a "Interesting Book & Gift Card" Christmas for everyone. I finally got home around 6pm and refused to leave the house for the rest of the night. I played LEGO Star Wars until my eyes watered. Our apartment was pretty cold, due to low pressure in the steam heaters. I hooked up the electric blanket and closed my door to keep the heat in and eventually got it up to 69 degrees in my room. Maggie and I slept pretty well through the night.

The Courthouse in Downtown Louisville, Ky.

Today, I have some work stuff to get done.
Tonight, the dog gets a bath and I pack my bags for holiday travel. Ian is also putting OS on the tower that I bought from Rance, a million years ago. He's also going to solve the Mystery of the Blue Box, which came with the tower.
Tomorrow, I work again.
Tomorrow night, I fly to Louisville, Ky for the holidays.
Saturday morning, my mom's side of the family takes a short trip to Gatlinburg, TN and we hide out for the Christmas Holiday weekend. We celebrate one of my cousins sons' birthdays with a Big Pancake Breakfast. Later, the kids all go tourist sight-seeing in Gatlinburg. I have it in mind, that I am going to try to do Indoor Skydiving, while in Gatlinburg. If that happens, I'll post pictures here.

I don't know how active this blog will be while I'm gone for the holidays. So let me say this to you now,

"Wherever you are, Whatever you do for the holidays, Take Time to Enjoy the Good Company of Those Around you. I hope you are warm, safe, well-fed and loved by your Family. Have a Merry Christmas!"

All My Best,
Mr.B

Move Over Ben Franklin...

2008-12-20T13:52:00.002-06:00

Alan Hawkins, our fine graphics artist for SFS, just sent this to me and I wanted to share it here. It was a graphic that he proposed using on a poster for our January show. As funny as I thought it was, I asked him to pull me out and plug Harz in instead. One of the things about SFS is that it's an ensemble piece and I don't want people to mistake me for the lead performer in it. So, I try to spread the sunshine around. Accordingly, it will be Harzy's time to shine on the January graphic. Which I will post here, when I receive the final copy.

But because Alan is a good sport and a resourceful guy, he cut this graphic out and sent it to me anyways. I think it's pretty funny. I look pretty stern for a piece of currency, don't I?

Cheers,
Mr.B

Go See THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON.

2008-12-20T11:12:00.003-06:00

I snagged a free ticket to go see an advanced preview of this movie on Thursday night and I am still thinking about this movie, two days later. It's beautiful and terribly sad. It manages, in two hours to encompass all the wonderful potential of a human life and the cold, pointlessness of death. The overall theme of the movie is, "Nothing lasts. Enjoy what you have, while you've got it" which is a difficult thing for human beings to grasp. Most of us just don't think about it at all. But it's true. Everything and everyone changes. You can fight it and lose or accept it and move forward. I think that the movie makes the argument that a better, richer life is lived by those who accept it and move forward, deeply drinking in the life that they live, while they live it.

It's a sublimely beautiful film. Beyond David Fincher's hauntingly lovely world that he's created here and Brad Pitt & Cate Blanchett's remarkably subtle work here, the story, itself, is the biggest star. And it's one you haven't heard before. Because you're too busy living it.

This movie touched me pretty deeply. It made me ask questions about my own life, that I'm still struggling with now. It made me want to make some changes in the very small things that I can actually affect. I feel like there's the person I was before I saw this movie and the person that I am, now that I've seen it. And that these two people are not the same person. That there are shifts in perception that will ripple out and make bigger changes in my life and the lives of people around me. (If feels odd to think that a movie could do that for a person, but that's honestly how it feels for me. Maybe this is one of those truly great films like "Taxi Driver" and "The Godfather" that really shape the people who see it. I feel like it has changed me.)

Here's the trailer for the film. It neatly and quickly touches on every major moment of the movie. After seeing the film, I can't believe so much of it is in this trailer. But without the context of the moments you're seeing, it all just washes by, like so many pretty scenes, one after another. (After you see the movie, though, it's nice to see this flip-book of the moments of Benjamin Button's life. They're all here, in this trailer.)

Before I close this out with a link to a review that I want you to read, a review that nearly perfectly captures how I feel about this movie in a much more articulate way than I can, I want to forewarn you about something about this movie. It's heavy and it's deep and it's intense. The last 30 minutes of the movie are singularly focused on loss, old age and death. And they're very hard to take. I quietly cried to myself, for the last thirty minutes of the movie, straight. And when the credits rolled, I had to sit in my seat, listening to Alexander Desplat's beautiful music, collecting myself before I could get up and leave the theater. I want you to know how painful this movie is, before you think to go see it. Because it is. And you should know what you're getting into, before you go see it. So, consider yourself warned.

I want to link you to Moriarty's comprehensive review of the movie on AICN. You can read the review here. This guy, GETS this movie in a big way. I think it changed him too. And he's much smarter about analyzing why the film works so well. I think he'll tell you about it and answer your questions and allay your concerns, even though, he might have to spoil some key points of the movie to get you there. (So, if you're one of those people who hates spoilers - good on you, I can't do that - you might want to avoid this review.) I imagine, reading this review, without the context of what he's talking about, the details will wash by like pictures of someone else that you don't know. So, it might not be all that spoilerish, after all. Read the review. Maybe it will give a better explanation of what I am trying to say.

Here's a quote from his review...

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON is one of the most piercing, beautiful, eccentric studio movies in recent memory, an exquisitely crafted film about memory, love, opportunity, and the passage of time. Technical wizardry and emotional delicacy combine to create an experience that is, for lack of a better word, magic. Set during the landfall of Hurricane Katrina, BUTTON tells an epic-scale story that is actually an intimate emotional journey, unusual and unlike any other film I can name.

I absolutely agree. It is delicate and magical.

And it opens on Christmas Day.

Which means that you have 5 days to prepare yourself for it. Or to make plans to see it. Which you absolutely should.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Tis The Season for "Scared Of Santa"

2008-12-17T13:36:00.002-06:00

One of my favorite holiday traditions is to peruse the "Scared of Santa" gallery. Now you can too, by clicking on this link. If you've never seen it before, "Scared of Santa" was a contest that the Florida Sun Sentinel ran a few years ago, asking readers to submit pictures of themselves or their children, being terrified by Santa. It caught a lot of press initially and people continue to submit their pics, years later. It's a great way to get into the holiday mood...

Enjoy.

Cheers,
Mr.B

SOTD: The Musical. - Early Notice.

2008-12-15T13:22:00.004-06:00

Some of you may be aware that my current project du jour... the mental puzzle that occupies my down time ... is a full-on, musical theater version of ... a to-be-named zombie movie. You probably know what movie I'm talking about. It's sort of a romantic comedy, set in London, as the zombie apocalypse is happening. The heroes hole up in the local pub, to wait it out. Not all of them survive. Yes, THAT movie. You've got it.

Let's not name it here or in the comments, lest we attract unwanted attention.

Anyways, I got the idea to turn it into a musical theater comedy, about a month ago and have been working on it since then. I've got 14 songs outlined and planned for the play. I want them to pop up, as musical numbers do, during a balls-accurate staging of the rest of the movie. I want zombies! I want a speeding car chase! I want dance numbers!

I also want an eight week run of the show, to go up in September of next year and run through Halloween.

I have all manner of suprises in store. Song structure and placement. Lovingly accurate recreations of moments from the movie (walk-through of the newly zombified neighborhood? Check! Throwing Records at The Girl In The Garden? Check! The Doppelgang? Check!) Also, there's a raffle planned, audience participation, full frontal male nudity and orangutan impressions galore. All of this fueled by a deep appreciation for the film and my own ignorance of what I can or can not accomplish. (I begin every project with the assumption that everything is going to work out better than I intend it to. Luckily for me, I know a small army of talented people who make these things happen, well above my capacity to execute them.)

So, last night, and here's the reason I am posting about this, I took a BIG STEP forward towards doing the show. I found an online script for the film. I have been dreading transcribing that movie, not because it's a bad movie, but because that would take forever. Luckily for me, someone else already did that work. I copied the script to my own computer and began formatting it for my form, plugging in place-holders for the songs that I'm looking to add.

Add to that, I have a song-writer on retainer. And I have confirmed interest from three strong potential leads. As it turns out, the more that I get done, the closer I get to this happening and the more likely it becomes.

Here's the production schedule I've created for myself.

DECEMBER
Finish formatting the script.
Write Lyrics for the first four songs.

JANUARY
Write lyrics for four more songs.
Get four finished songs from the song-writer. (4 total)
Finish Props List.
Finish Sound Effects List.

FEBRUARY
Write lyrics for four more songs.
Get four more finished songs from the song-writer. (8 total.)
Tweak script / Finalize directorial decisions for staging.

MARCH
Write lyrics for two more songs.
Get four more finished songs from the song-writer. (12 total.)

APRIL
Get final two songs from song-writer. (14 total.)
Stage Reading w/ Feedback Session - mid April.

MAY
Press Releases Go Out.
Confirm with Music Director & Choreographer / Fight Choreographer.
Auditions in Late May. Cast Secured.
Rehearsal Schedule finished and set.

JUNE
Rehearsals begin in early June.
Costumes gathered.
Blood Effects Designed.

JULY
Rehearsals continue.
Minimal Scenary built.

AUGUST
Rehearsal continue, adding sound effects, props, blood effects, etc.
Reviewers scheduled, as available.

SEPTEMBER
Two weeks of tech rehearsals and final dress rehearsals.
Show run begins, mid-September at The Playground Theater. (Either as a 10pm show or a midnight show.)

OCTOBER
Show runs through October, marketing to Halloween crowds.

NOVEMBER
Show closes two weeks into November.
Have post show meetings to get notes from collaborators, prepping for 2010 remount (barring disaster).

Let's just see how closely I stick to that, eh?

If all goes to well, I'll have a fully staged, choreographed, musical theater version of a film that I love. And hopefully that YOU love too. And would want to come be a part of and/or see, in the month of September/ October.

(Don't worry, I've got a backup plan, in case I get a C&D letter from the movie studio. Change names, Change the title, Pull out sections of dialogue, Change the product sufficiently, so as to be different enough from the original, to skirt copy-write laws. Adding original musical numbers aids that process.)

Consider this your ten month call to come see this fantastic show.

Cheers,
Mr.B

He Knows The Question. And He's Going to Pop It Too.

2008-12-12T13:21:00.010-06:00

One of my best friends just casually mentioned to me, over the phone, that he's going to propose to his girlfriend on Christmas Eve. Speeding it's way to his apartment, right now, is his mother's own wedding ring. He's going to add a stone to it for his girlfriend and give it to her on Christmas Eve.

And by uttering that simple phrase, followed by "I told you this, didn't I?", this guy sent me spiraling into a dizzying spin of memory, nostalgia, regret and internal debate.

Instead of being excited for this good friend, I am left wondering how it has happened that I am the last of the four of us, all tight friends from college, who hasn't found someone for myself, yet.

Is it because I have dedicated too much time to theater and my artistic passions and left no time to be with someone?

Is it because I've had love and lost it or worst yet, denied it outright?

Is it because I've traditionally picked partners, based solely on my urges to help people who are suffering, and ended up dating girls who are just not emotionally stable enough to sustain a relationship?

Is it because I frequently have attractions for girls who are not available to be in a relationship with me and when they DO free up, they're too busy recovering from the relationship that they just left?

Is it because I've been too cautious? Have I held off for so long, that I'm no longer attractive as a potential partner? (Somebody once said, that a single, un-married guy in his .... 30's, 40's, one of the two... wasn't "an undiscovered gem", but was "a huge warning sign". When does that crossover happen?)

In my life, the concept of marriage and commitment have danced at the edges of all of my relationships.

One girl, I would've married, but I fucked it up, right proper, for the dumbest possible reason. I maintain the belief that I should be with her, to this day, 15 years later.

One girl, I wanted to marry. Her fucking another guy (maybe two others beyond him) ended all consideration there.

One girl, I also considered marrying, but frankly, she forced the issue by making living with her to be unlivable. Once that wasn't an option, marriage wasn't, either.

One girl, wanted to be married, even wanted to be married to me, but she wanted it before I did and once that pressure was applied, I got out, rather than continue to disappoint her, over and over again.

One girl, I would've married, but she ended things to go back to what was familiar to her and that was, as they say, that.

I know I bear responsibility for the decisions that I've made, to get myself here, to where I am. Both good and bad. I lit several of the matches that burned old relationships to the ground. Some of them were lit for me. And still others were not stable in their foundations, enough to consider habitation within. Once a person becomes an atheist and accepts responsibility for their own actions, it removes all influence of fate, random circumstance and God.

So, I am at the inescapable realization that I am where I am, because I have allowed myself to be here, either by choice, action or the lack thereof.

I am also reminded that if I were to be totally honest with myself, I WANT to be with someone.
I WANT to be married, committed, stable.
I WANT a partner and a lover and a friend and a wife.
I WANT her to be all of those things, rolled up into one.
I WANT to work to be worth her time, attention and commitment.
I WANT her to be worth mine.

I want these things and I do not have them. I'm not even on the path to have them. They do not seem to be eminent possibilities to me, right now.

And that's troubling to me.

This friend said, "When you know, you know" answering the doubts that I had not even voiced yet. Of course, my first question was going to be, "Is this too soon?" It was the first thing that came to my mind. And he, knowing me as well as he does, answered it before I even said anything. And then he helpfully added, "You know?" to which I had to honestly answer, "Not yet, I don't. Maybe someday."

You might have guessed who I am talking about. If you think you know, wait until after Christmas Day to confirm it with him. It will hurt his feelings to know that I'm talking about it here. So, do him that service, and don't discuss it with him, until after the turn of the year. There will be plenty of time to celebrate it then.

All My Best,
Mr.B

The Decemberists present "The Hazards Of Love".

2008-12-12T11:24:00.004-06:00

I just got an email from The Decemberists, telling me about the release date for their next album, "The Hazards Of Love". (The band and I are pretty tight. So they email me every now and then, you know how it goes, right?) Anyways, Release Date? March 24th?

Here's the text of the email, in case they didn't happen to send it to you...

The Decemberists News |12.11.2008

Points of Order:
• The Hazards of Love gets a tracklist and a release date!
• Always a Bridesmaid: A Singles Series Vol. 3 available now!
• Tour merch now available at the online shop.

Adored Mailing List Recipients[1],

We Decemberists are pleased to announce that our forthcoming LP, The Hazards of Love, is, in the parlance of the industry, "in the can[2]". Four tumultuous months passed in the creation of the record, during which a new president was selected[3], 3 people associated with the band were married[4], birthdays too numerous to recount were celebrated and many tasty asada tacos from two of the vast array of taco trucks in the greater Portland east-side were consumed. And what do we have to show for it? Or at least that we can now reveal to you? A release date and a tracklist! As follows:

Release Date: March 24th[5] in the U.S. and March 23th[6] in the UK.[7]

Tracklist:

1. Prelude
2. The Hazards of Love 1 (The Prettiest Whistles Won't Wrestle the Thistles Undone)
3. A Bower Scene
4. Won't Want for Love (Margaret in the Taiga)
5. The Hazards of Love 2 (Wager All)
6. The Queen's Approach
7. Isn't it a Lovely Night?
8. The Wanting Comes in Waves / Repaid
9. An Interlude
10. The Rake's Song
11. The Abduction of Margaret
12. The Queen's Rebuke / The Crossing
13. Annan Water
14. Margaret in Captivity
15. The Hazards of Love 3 (Revenge!)
16. The Wanting Comes in Waves (Reprise)
17. The Hazards of Love 4 (The Drowned)

Well, there it is.

The tracklist.

And it looks like there some Abducting, Some Revenge and Then Somebody Drowns. (By my record, this would be the third such incident of somebody drowning in a Decemberists song. What does this tell us? Not to go to the beach with The Decemberists.

I like that the tracklist for the upcoming album, might also serve as Chapter lists for some Victorian Novel. I like that they're clearly weaving a narrative through their songs. To my mind, that's much more interesting than, "Hey, here's a bunch of random songs thrown together, that we worked out in jam sessions in a studio!"

Looks like I'll be downloading an album from Itunes on March 24th, assuming that the nation hasn't fallen completely into anarchy, by then. I'd be super-pissed if this rapidly dissolving nation got in the way of my digital music habits.

Cheers all,
Mr.B

News Flash - ACTOR SLITS OWN THROAT ONSTAGE. AGATHA CHRISTIE'S GHOST SAYS "WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?"

2008-12-11T11:18:00.005-06:00

Saw this article on huffpost. My comments follow the article.

Actor slits his own throat as knife switch turns fiction into reality

An actor slit his throat on stage when the prop knife for his suicide scene turned out to be a real one.

Daniel Hoevels, 30, slumped over with blood pouring from his neck while the audience broke into applause at the "special effect". Police are investigating whether the knife was a mistake or a murder plot. They are questioning the rest of the cast, and backstage hands with access to props; they will also carry out DNA tests.

Things went wrong at Vienna's Burgtheater as Hoevels' character went to "kill himself" in the final scene of Friedrich Schiller's Mary Stuart, about Mary Queen of Scots, on Saturday night

It was only when he did not get up to take a bow that anyone realised something had gone wrong.

Though bleeding profusely, Hoevels survived because the knife missed the carotid artery as it sliced into his neck. Wolfgang Lenz, a doctor who treated him, said: "Just a little bit deeper and he would have been drowning in his own blood."

One officer told Austrian TV news: "The rumours are wild, with some claiming that he was the victim of jealous rival.

"We don't know anything for sure yet; we have to work through everyone."

The knife was reportedly bought at a local shop; one possibility is that the props staff forgot to blunt its blade. "The knife even still had the price tag on it," an investigator said.

After emergency treatment at a hospital, Hoevels declared that the show must go on, and returned to the stage on Sunday night with a bandage tied around his neck, ready to once again meet his mock demise.

Well, far be it from me to argue a little self-preservation at the expense of truthful performance onstage, but really?!?

I know it wasn't intentional, but there had to be a moment when this kid thought, "Ow! Fuck. This isn't the knife that we used in all of the dress rehearsals or the week of tech before performances began? I better not... cut my own throat open onstage. I better just pretend that I did it, forgo the blood effect, and then get backstage so that I can see what the fuck happened here."

Not this kid.

This kid goes all "Jack The Ripper" on himself, open up his neck and begins to bleed out onstage. Slumps over. Lays there, contemplating the random folly of fate, whilst he sullies up the floor's paint-job.

Why didn't he get up and motion to the blood coming out of his neck and seek out medical help?

Why did he just lay there and bleed on the stage?

Maybe he's young and inexperienced.
Maybe he's from the School of Dramatic Arts that say "Die for your art".
Maybe he's depressed and just decided to end it all on a terribly public manner.

There HAS to be a reason why this kid didn't follow the normal reactions to the accidental, public slicing of one's own throat. I would hate to think that he's just confirmation of the worst possible slanders of actors. I would hate to think of this of evidence of that tired old, backstage bon mot that actors are basically pretty sheep that need too much attention and can't be given actual responsibilities or expected to do much more than memorize dialogue and pose a bit. I surely would hate to think of this as confirmation of that...

Be safe out there, kids. Don't go slitting your own throats for regional theater. That's no way to win a Jeff.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Go See THE HEART OF THE GAME.

2008-12-11T01:27:00.003-06:00

Okay, I need to tell you about this movie.

And then you need to go get it and watch it.

I don't care who you are.
I don't care what you feel about sports.
I don't care how you feel about documentaries.

If you are a human being and you are alive and aware and sensitive to the lives of the people around you, you need to see this movie.

I discovered this documentary film, two or three months ago, on a weekday afternoon, home sick from work. I laid in bed, flipping around, looking for something to watch, when I found this movie. I don't know why I stopped and watched any of it. I don't know jack about basketball. Especially ladies, high school basketball. But I did stop on it and I watched the whole thing, from that point on.

The ending of this movie is one of the most tense, heart-wrenching endings I've ever seen in my life. Reality wrote the best sports movie I've ever seen. That emotional release that all sports movies want you to feel at the climactic game? Yeah, well, this climactic game actually happened and it delivers on the promise that those other, fictional movies only promise.

Here's a brief plot description of the film from IMDB.

THE HEART OF THE GAME captures the passion and energy of a Seattle high school girls' basketball team, the eccentricity of their unorthodox coach, and the incredible true story of one player's fight to play the game she loves.

And really, that's all you should know, going into this movie. Everything else, the highs and the lows, you need to discover on your own.

Roger Ebert gave the movie 3 1/2 stars and said this about the film.

"The Heart of the Game" has the potential, like "Hoop Dreams," to win a large audience.

I would caution you away from his review, though, as he spoils the ending of the film in the first paragraph and it's really better if you don't know what's going to happen. No link here. If you really want to look it up, Google it yourself.

This film worked for me in a big way. The only other sports movie that affected me as much as this one did, was the Ali vs Frazier documentary, "When we were kings". This movie deserves an honored place on my home movie shelf, next to that one.

So, now you've heard about it.
You've been enticed, but not spoiled.
I'm closing out this review with the trailer for the film and it will show you the girls and that it's about girls basketball and the coach seems a little odd, but I'm telling you that there's much more to the story than that. But you'll have to seek it out on your own to see what I mean.

Which you should do.

As soon as you can.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Baguette!

2008-12-10T18:17:00.005-06:00

I just wrote an email to a co-worker. In it, I mentioned a baguette that I was going to bring to a holiday function. I typed the word out naturally, without thinking about it.

"Baguette"

But then, when I went to mention it again, I thought about the word and typed it as I thought it would appear

"Bagette"

and my spell-checker helpfully underlined it in red, to point out my error.

I did not know that I knew how to correctly spell the word "Baguette" until I tried to do it and then failed. When I didn't TRY specifically to do it right, I nailed it on the first pass.

In this case, my brain got in the way of itself and screwed up something it was already perfectly capable of doing. Perhaps I should relax and employ my first instincts.

At least when spelling the names of French bread...

The Fear-Mongering, Ignorant, Racist Right Better Get Ready To Start Squeeling...

2008-12-10T11:20:00.005-06:00

... because Barack Obama announced in a recent interview that he's...

A.) going to be sworn in by his whole name, "Barack Hussein Obama", when he's sworn in. I think he's intending it to be a sign that he's not hiding or backing away from his multi-cultural heritage.

and

B.) he's going to make "a major speech in an Islamic capital".

He's looking at all of this as an opportunity to "reboot" American foreign policy and American relations with the Muslim world. You can read the whole article here, in an online article by the recently Chapter 11'd Chicago Tribune. (Good to see them still churning out news, despite massive lay-offs and it's recent death knell. Maybe their in denial. I would be.)

I see what Obama is doing here. He's delivering on the promises of "change" that he promised in his campaign. After all, his predecessor launched a vaguely-defined, international war against... what was the term... "religious extremists" or something like that. (Pot, Kettle, Black.) Obama seems to be taking the exactly oppostite tactic here, reaching out to Islamic world, suggesting that he knows that Christians and Muslims haven't been well-represented by their most vocal representatives, lo these seven years now. And that new opportunity for progress and growth is present for the first time in a long time. That's a message that I think he needs to give. That's what a leader does, leads people to smarter, healthier, more constructive attitudes and practices.

He also says very clearly what his attitudes are in quotes like this...

"The message I want to send is that we will be unyielding in stamping out the terrorist extremism we saw in Mumbai," Obama said, adding that he plans to give a major address in an Islamic capital as part of his global outreach.

So, he's unwilling to accept terrorism as a manipulation technique by the fanatics of the world. But he's open to working with the 95% of peaceful muslims in the rest of the world. A win/ win tactic - tough on terrorism/ welcoming to peace.

And yet...

I see headlines like
"Barack Obama plans to reach out to Muslim world"
and
I read that he's going to make a major speech in an islamic capital
and
read about his intention of recognizing his "Hussein"-ness
and
I think about this...

and I remember this...

and this...

and I think to myself, "there are large patches of this country which aren't going to understand what he's trying to do here. This is not going to happen easily for him or for this country." If you were one of the people who, during the longest campaign in American History, were afraid that Obama was going to "turn the country all muslim" or "outlaw the bible" or "let the muslims in to the white house", then this announcement from him will unintentionally play right into your worst fears.

So, how do you balance a good and presidentially appropriate action against the unapologetic, only slightly supressed racism and ignorance of your most fearful citizens?

I would suggest a single tactic.

"Control the language of your actions"

This comes staight out of George Lakoff's "Don't think of an elephant". And it's the tactic that the right has used successfully to spin liberals into a twist and get a C+ alcoholic male cheerleader and failed businessman into the presidential office for eight years. It's a tactic that the left can employ to big success.

Right now, "islam" and "muslim" are negative buzzwords. Right or wrong, that's just the way that it is. My advice to Obama would be to continue with his plans, don't change a thing about his intentions, but focus less on the "muslim-targeted" language of his plans and make them more universal. Speak in the inclusive double-talk of the modern media.

Instead of "giving a major speech in an islamic capital", try "speaking for unity in one of the largest, most deeply spiritual cities of the world". Same message, negative buzzword avoided. The muslims in this town know what he's talking about, the rest of the world thinks he means Jerusalem and the right has nothing to bite onto, when they attack him for this.

Instead of "reaching out to muslims", try "embracing all peoples of faith and ending hateful stereotypes of recent years". Again, the muslims know exactly who you're talking about, without naming them. Everyone else thinks you mean whatever group they personally see as the oppressed.

I think the president-elect absolutely SHOULD be sworn in with his full name. Every president before him has done the same thing. And if it sends a message, then that message is "my heritage is nothing to be ashamed of and by suggesting otherwise, you reveal your own predjudices". And that's message enough.

Let's hope that the right-wing media misses this. Let's hope that they're focused on Blago and his problems and misses this completely. The last thing I want to see are the dying elephants of the right-wing hate-media, whipping the ignorant up into a dangerous, fearful fury. That's about as counter-productive an action as I can imagine, right now.

Cheers all,
Mr.B

Have you seen Lil O'Reilly yet?

2008-12-09T00:17:00.002-06:00

Megaprops to SuperIntern Megan, who forwarded this to my attention at work, today.

Absolutely worth checking out.

Oh, Lil O'Reilly, you had me at "I hope you hit a whale on your way to France".

Here he is, mixing it up with Barney Frank.

"Gay! Gay! Gay! Gay! Gaaaaaaaaaay!"

Wow.

Between Colbert and this kid, O'Reilly is spawning an army of mimics and critics. I just want to know, where's the spot-on radio parody of Rush Limbaugh?

Cheers,
Mr.B

Joe vs His Girlfriend vs The Punisher.

2008-12-05T11:12:00.003-06:00

Joe and I were in the living room, watching The Daily Show mercilessly rip apart the Moumbai terrorists. He would flick the remote at the DVR and fast forward the commercials. He was cuddled up on the couch, under a quilt. I was in my pajamas, slippers and robe, relaxing in the recliner.

"So, what movie did you and Mary go see today?" I asked him. I knew that he was excited to see "Quantum of Solace" and since I dug the movie, I wanted to see what he thought of it.

"Four Christmases," he said.

"Wait! What? What did you say?" I asked.

"We saw Four Christmases." he paused the fast-forwarding and looked over at me.

"Why? That movie looks like shit. The AICN reviewer said that he sincerely hopes that it kills the shitty, formulaic holiday movie genre entirely. Contrived plotlines. Broad, pointless characters. People doing and saying stupid things. Why would you go see that?" I was stunned. It was like Joe had casually said that he ate a fresh dog turd today.

"Mary wanted to see it," he said.

"Well, why didn't you try to talk her out of it. Arguably, helping her avoid that movie would've been an act of love." Clearly, I wasn't able to let this go.

"Mary wanted to see a holiday movie and that's the only one that's out now. So, we went to go see it. We were supposed to see two movies. Quantum of Solace early in the day and then Four Christmases in the afternoon. But we ended up sleeping in and missed the first movie and only saw Four Christmases. It wasn't that bad."

"Don't defend that piece of shit," I said. I helpfully added, "You better get some sort of extra sex acts for suffering through that movie. Extra Blowjobs. Or Better Blowjobs or something."

"Better than that, I got her to agree to see Punisher; War Zone with me when it opens."

"Dude, Punisher; War Zone is going to be ultra-violent. People's heads blow up. The Punisher kills people with furniture. Apparently, there's going to be a massive body count in that movie."

"I know that. And you know that. But she doesn't know that."

"Ah ha. I see," I said. " I understand now. For a second there, I thought you got the crap-end of that deal. I was almost going to feel sorry for you. But not now..."

Joe unpaused The Daily Show and we finished watching it together.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Oh, I'm Coming Home For Christmas.

2008-12-04T11:03:00.008-06:00

It's been a busy week for re-building bridges for me. Old grievances that had aged to the point that they weren't present for re-consideration were re-examined, smoothed over and in some cases, repaired.

On Monday night, as I was walking into my theater to see opening night of our new show, I got a call from Hendo's cell. Thinking that something had gone "Boom" at the theater, I called him back immediately. When I told him that I was about walk into the theater, he explained that it wasn't time-critical and that I could give him a call back that night. And that was the plan.

The plan that I forgot.

After the show, I attended the reception briefly. My guest and I scooted out of there and cabbed up to our neighborhood. I walked her to her apartment. And on the cold walk home from her place, I got distracted by other issues and I completely forgot that I was supposed to call Hendo.

Tuesday evening, out in Beverly, after a two hour commute, Hendo called me back. We chatted about theater stuff for a bit. My theater. Our theater. People. Current Events. He even clued me in on some recent news that I'd previously missed.

At one point, he said, "Hey, not to get distracted by chit-chat, but I actually have a pitch that I want to make to you.." and with very little flourish, Hendo asked me if I would consider coming back to the BBR.

I want to be very clear here. It wasn't a suck-up session. Hendo didn't blow smoke up my ass or re-hash water well under the bridge. He just laid out his case, very matter of factly. My old job had opened up again. And the company was considering what to do with it and he'd made the case to ask me back. His point was that I could bring back the strengths that I brought to the show. And that the problems that he and I had, are pretty much resolved. And that the dynamic within the company had changed, also, to the point where the conditions were ripe for us to have a successful partnership again. He asked me to consider it.

And I did.
I am.

From my perspective, enough time has passed, that I'm over the issues that I had with Hendo. Issues that lead me to have to leave the company. And I didn't have any issues with the girls or the rest of the company. In short, there aren't a whole lot of obstacles for me to come back to the show.

I asked for a little time to think about it and suggested that i would want to contact Megan to get her thoughts on it. Hendo thought that was a good idea. He ended the call by thanking me for hearing him out and sincerely hoping that I would consider it. I thought that was very professional with him.

My phone call with Megan was also very professional. Honestly, it was easy and smooth and Megan has a good head on her shoulders. She and I agreed that we thought that was a lot of potential for good. And that the problems I had before have potential to not be problems anymore. She suggested that we take it on a trial basis, with the intention of aiming for a permanent return. Hendo identified a show on Dec. 20th, that needs coverage. Megan and I agreed that I would do that gig. No strings attached. (In a later phone call, Hendo identified a show on Dec. 15th at another joint, where I could see the show again, see the girls again, without performance pressure. A very good idea. I'm going.)

And that's where we left things. I have a show, back with the company, on Dec. 20th. Both Hendo and Megan treated me with respect and kindness and I really appreciate it. One of them said that "conditions were good for positive step forward for my relationship with the show" and I agree with them. For my part, I left the show between performances. One minute I was there. The next show, I wasn't. And it felt sad and undignified, considering my genuine high esteem for the girls and the show. So, one way to look at it, is that I get the very generous offer to tread the boards and "whoop" and holler for the girls, one more time. And honestly, that's the nicest thing that could've happened to me. Something so nice, that I couldn't even imagine it for myself, without a little help from my friends.

Never underestimate another human beings capacity for grace and kindness.

You never know someone so well, that you can fully appreciate their capacity to do good by you.

Cheers all,
Mr.B

Im Coming Home For Christmas - Squirrel Nut Zippers

How I Got Sold On An XBOX 360...

2008-12-03T23:49:00.004-06:00

I'm not a big video-game guy. My most advanced game system is an XBOX and I've had that thing since college. I still play HALO and a few MEDAL OF HONOR games on it. But when the XBOX 360 was announced a year or two ago, I didn't really have any urge to go get one. To be honest, it pissed me off that the system didn't play XBOX games. As if Microsoft was telling me that I couldn't have the games that I wanted. I had to go play these games instead. To be honest, I didn't really give it any more thought than that.

MORROWIND:OBLIVION game out and I was tempted, but decided against it.

GEARS OF WAR came out and everyone raved about it, but I decided against it.

My beloved HALO 3 came out and that one almost got me. I thought about buying a 360 then. Expecially when I saw all of the commercials for it. It looks fantastic.

But then, someone on CIN posted this today...

Ghostbusters - Atari Live Trailer
by dpadmagazine

And I knew, as surely as I am telling you now, I HAVE to get this game system and I HAVE to get this game.

I'm a HUGE Ghostbusters fan. That movie hit me at the right age and I saw it a bazillion times. I still catch myself quoting that movie without thinking about it.

"Mother Puss Bucket!"

and

"Dogs and Cats! Living Together! Mass Hysteria!"

That they got the original cast members to reunite for dialogue is the blessing that I needed to accept this thing. This game is offering me the pure undiluted pleasure of a nostalgic overload that "Indiana Jones 4" and "Transformers" failed to deliver to me.

I got so excited when I saw that trailer today, that I started shopping game systems online immediately. I'm currently weighing the benefits of a 120gig system over a 60gig system. Whatever I decide, I will own that game system by January.

I left work in a rush, day-dreaming about this game. I actually stopped at Blockbuster and picked up a used copy of the original XBOX game "STAR WARS: THE LEGO SEQUELS" and have been playing that in my room tonight. Little LEGO guys hopping around and light-sabering little LEGO drones. I dig it.

And of course, when I get the XBOX 360, I'm picking up LEGO INDIANA JONES and LEGO BATMAN, asap. And that's how Microsoft converted me from "not caring about an XBOX 360 at all" to "full on raving until I get one". All it took was one game trailer. Well, the right game trailer.

"Bustin' makes me feeeel goooood!"

Ghostbusters - Ray Parker Jr

My Co-workers

2008-12-03T10:41:00.006-06:00

I work in a theater.
I do theater administration.
That's my day job.

My co-workers work in their various departments, administrating their work too.
That is their day job.

But I'm secretly a writer, director and improviser. I also cartoon, take photographs, sew and tell stories. I perform with one of the smartest improv troupes in the city and I produce my own late-night comedy shows. If you produce an interesting show concept, I'll come act in your show and make it as strong as I possibly can.

My co-workers have their secret lives too.
Let me tell you a little bit about them.

One of my co-workers is our part-time book-keeper. Secretly, he directs shows and plays the saxophone.

My Director of Development is a playwright and was recently honored at a theater festival.

My Director of Special Events and Individual Giving is a dancer and performs in the occasional dance revue, here in town.

My Literary Manager is a playwright of some renown. (Which makes sense, actually.)

My Events & Audience Services Manager is a theater director and writes theater reviews around town under a pseudonym.

My House Manager is a classically trained vocalist who is in high demand to perform in church services and other major events around town.

One of my interns is a Neo-Futurist. She's also a talented, expressive writer.

Oh and my Education Director is a rock star, who performs with a pretty popular, well-known rock group. An Honest to God rock star.

I just wanted to quickly note that the people that I work with, although they're good at their jobs and very skilled in the work that they do, also lead fascinating night-lives that showcase their otherwise untapped talents.

By day, we produce theater.
At night, we live it.

Cheers,
Mr.B

News Flash - Ugandan Men Are Falling For REAL Booby Traps...

2008-12-01T18:32:00.004-06:00

Just saw this posted on YahooNews...

Ugandan Men Warned of "Booby Trap".
Friday, November 28 07:04 pm

Uganda's police warned male bar-goers to keep their noses clean after a probe found a gang of robbers had been using women with chloroform smeared on their chests to knock their victims unconscious.

"They apply this chemical to their chest. We have found victims in an unconscious state," Criminal Investigations Directorate (CID) spokesman Fred Enanga told AFP.

"You find the person stripped totally naked and everything is taken from him," he said. "And the victim doesn't remember anything. He just remembers being in the act of romancing."

Enanga, who explained that several types of heavy sedatives had been used, said he first came across the practice last year when an apprehended thief named Juliana Mukasa made a clean breast of the matter.

"She is a very dangerous lady," the official said.

While early investigations suggest that the gang may consist of dozens of members, the source of the sedatives remains unknown.

"We don't know exactly how they get these materials," Enanga added. "That is something that our investigations must crack."

He called on men, particularly travelling businessmen who tend to carry a lot of cash, to take caution.

"It's a serious situation and people have to be aware."

Okay, first of all, the pun that I highlighted doesn't make any fucking sense. Look, I get it. You're a bored AP writer, this story of "Drugged Cleavage" comes along and your first instinct is to make a juvenile joke. That was my first instinct too. But "making a clean breast of the matter" just doesn't make any fucking sense. It's such an awkward, hammy thrusting of "breast" into a phrase that it screams "SOMEBODY'S MAKING A FUCKING PUN HERE, YAL!" which defeats the joke entirely. Just terrible. Really. Boo.

That said, "HOLY CHRIST! WOMEN ARE PUTTING CHLOROFORM IN THEIR CLEAVAGE TO ROB TRAVELERS!" Congrats to some clever Ugandan Lady-Thieves for ripping off Poison Ivey's M.O. from an old Batman comic.

Initially, my first thought is, "wouldn't the guys smell the chloroform?" I think I would. As I understand it, Chloroform smells chemically. Like cleaning fluid. You'd notice it. Even when you're nose deep in some strange Ugandan women's cleavage.

Or at the very least, when you start to pass out, you'd go "Fuck! Maybe it's this chemical smell coming from between these two big, black Ugandan boobs!" and then pull your face out and get away scott-free!

The nearest I can figure is that liberal amounts of booze were consumed (been there) and that the ladies applied a GENEROUS amount of chloroform (but not too much to knock themselves out) and when the traveler went in for the kill, these ladies must've HELD THEM THERE, by clamping onto their heads and held them in place until the dudes passed the fuck out. (I can see that happening. I can see that happening to me.) Which begs the question, why didn't these Ugandan lady-thieves just whack these dudes with a blackjack, knock their asses out, tie them up and rob them then? Why go to such huge, grand-gestaltian, super-villainess routes?

I just feel like the world has somehow been lessened when the men of the world can't trust the cleavage right in front of our eyes. When a lady says, "Put your face here", we now have to be thinking, "Is she going to drug me with her chloroform boobs and rob me, leaving me naked and stranded somewhere? And not in the good way?" I feel like something has been lost. The innocence of the cleavage perhaps.

Keep your noses clean (and well ventilated) gentlemen.

Cheers,
Mr.B

34 Reasons to have sex.

2008-12-01T10:20:00.002-06:00

Hey, the ever-helpful AOL News just posted this article on 34 reasons why sex is health-beneficial for you. Everything from "increases sense of smell" to "reduces risk in heart attacks for men, by half" to "Helps you sleep better". I could've told you about that last one.

In any case, ladies, give this article a read. That way you'll know what I mean, when I drunkenly stagger up to you in the bar offering to "release your aggression by the careful application of tactile stimulation". Best pickup line ever.

Yeah.

Cheers,
Mr.B

PS. If sex honestly reduces a man's chances of a heart attack or a stroke, I should be the heart-healthiest fucker on the planet. I'm having sex all the time. Just by myself. Same thing, right?!?

I Want To Buy What These Guys Are Selling...

2008-11-28T22:58:00.004-06:00

I should probably warn you that this clip is Not Safe For Work.

I should also tell you that I laughed outloud for a full five minutes after I saw it.

The title of this Youtube Clip is "Japanese Informercial Gets Out Of Hand."

And really, that's all the context that you need for this thing. The Less You Know, The Better.

The ending is the best part.

Enjoy.

Hilarious.

I'm still laughing about it. That's brilliant.

Cheers,
COB

PS. A poster on You-Tube gave some context for this. Here's what he said...

The name of the film this is from is "Midsummer's Female Announcer". Japanese Porno films, when translated into another language always sound a little strange. The three ladies are Ryouko Sena, (the tall one), Tsubasa Okina, (the pink top) and Minami Aoyama. Their other titles sound interesting: "Lady who Undertake Disgrace", "Special Sex Truck Fully Open" and "All-Girl Anal Invitational", among many, many others. Look for SDDM-442 for this one.

So, it's the lead-up to a genuine porno. It's the editing of this clip, though, that really sells the bit. I prefer to imagine that it's a live television commercial gone horribly wrong. So, so funny.

While we're on the topic of infomercials gone horribly wrong, there's always this...

And this...

But this is the best one ever...

Word's Personal Word Cloud.

2008-11-28T15:30:00.003-06:00

Well, the very cool Nick Keenan just linked to this very cool tool. The Wordle Word Cloud generator.

Of course I had to give it a try.

And this is a "word cloud" representation of what my blog looks like.

I like how it looks like a brain, roughly. Also, I guess I've been talking a lot about Christmas lately. You can make your own by going here.

Hooray for internet toys, eh?

Cheers,
Mr.B

In the Office, Friday after Thanksgiving, Again...

2008-11-28T10:38:00.004-06:00

Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with people that they actually expect employees to work on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Most of the staff blows a "Day Off" on the day and do not come in to work. As I type this, there are four people in our office of 18. The other 14 are MIA or coming in late or ... who the Hell knows? Maybe I'm the jerk for NOT taking the day off for myself.

In defiance of the ridiculousness of my having to be here, I am wearing a t-shirt and hoody to work today (it's casual Friday) and 45 minutes after I got here, I have YET to do any actual work. It's a freaking protest, I tells ya!

I thought I might take a minute and recap some of the good things that are happening in my life, lately. To try and articulate some of the random thoughts that are knocking around in my head. And if I get around to a cliched Thanksgiving list of things that I am Thankful for, well, then, I guess I'll post that too.

(Although, it seems odd to me to designate a holiday each year that A.) celebrates a fictional meal that our non-fictional ancestors had with people that they would ultimately fuck over pretty terribly, B.) celebrate that event by stuffing ourselves with ridiculous amounts of food and wine and C.) cultivate a general air of gratitude in our lives that we express once a year. We're not publicly thankful all year round. Just the fourth Thursday of every month. And isn't gratitude an arbitrary emotion to address once a year. Isn't fear or sexual longing more interesting? Is there a holiday set whereupon we list the things that terrify us the most and/or the people we most want to bone? What about a holiday dedicated to greedily coveting the good lives and possessions of others? What holiday is set aside for that? But I digress.)

Thanksgiving Recap:
Spent Thanksgiving with my two bosses and a few of their family members. It was really relaxing and nice. Peeled potatoes for the first time. Ate caviar for the first time. Drank too much wine, but still managed to keep from embarrassing myself with stories that are only funny to me. The food was absolutely delicious. And I got a "take home" bag of supplies which will feed me for dinner tonight. With the recent changes in management at my theater, it was good to get to spend a relaxing holiday with my two bosses. No talk of work. Nothing but great stories about theater people that preceded me by thirty or more years. It was exceptionally kind of them to invite me to join them. I had a really lovely time.

The Lord Of The Rings (again).
I sat down yesterday and began watching the first movie (expanded edition) for the first time, since those DVDs came out. I wanted to allow some time from THAT viewing to this one, so that I could watch them again, with fresh eyes. And they don't displease. I'm really enjoying myself, watching the first movie, again. Schedule permitting, I'll try to watch the other two movies over this weekend.
They really are smart, well-made movies. Wow.

Superman; 1935
Inspired by my recent reading of "It's Superman!", I've been day-dreaming about writing a six issue comics series and pitching it to DC comics, setting Superman and icons from his mythos in the world of 1935. My Superman will know nothing of Krypton. He'll be a strong guy, with amazing abilities, but nothing like the over-powered Superman of modern comics. He'll be in his early twenties and a Kansas farmboy in thought process and social skills. He can't fly, but he can jump over buildings. He's bullet-proof. He has X-ray vision. He is faster and stronger than you or I, but not as fast as the Flash and not as Strong as Hercules. I want his costume to keep getting torn in his adventures. I want him to be afraid of media atttention. I want him to meet Lois Lane and love her even though he's way below her type. I want his best friend to be Jimmy Olsen, a street kid, who sells newspapers on the streets. And I want him to fight an alien invasion, with flying saucers and little green men, with giant brains and robotic men, who clunk around Metropolis. Yeah, so, that's what I've been day-dreaming about in my off time. I really need to solidify the outline that I've got in my head and start getting some of that down on paper. I need a "Thing" that I can send to the DC publishers and try to sell them on the idea.

Joe Is Unemployed:
On Tuesday, my roommate and old college chum, Joe was laid off from the theater where he worked. It was one of those panicky, economy is on a down-turn, let's try ANYTHING to save cash moves. They basically combined his full-time job with another persons full-time job, which fucks both Joe and the person who now has to do his job.
It sucks. No two ways about it. Joe was there for 4 years and has enjoyed some stability and an upgraded life for working there. Better job. More pay. More opportunities. Better car. More authority. And he met his girlfriend there. His life is better for having been there.
But he's depressed and stuck in the rut of thinking about the theater that he doesn't work at anymore. He's stuck working there for the rest of this week and he can't bring himself to NOT work on the next show. The show that follows the one they are just opening. He comes home and talks paternally about the cast of the current show and some of his co-workers. I have to keep reminding him that they're all irrelevant to him now. That his new job is taking care of himself. He's not there, yet. He's still stuck in the past. The past where he's still employed at his theater.
I've been let go of by four different jobs now. I've been down-sized, re-positioned, not accepted and out-and-out fired. The first one was the worst one. I openly cried in my bosses office. I didn't make the decision to cry. I just couldn't contain it. I was 26 and didn't see it coming (thought I was being called into the office to get a much-delayed raise). That was the loss of job that knocked me down for a week or so, hiding from people, because I thought I had a perceptible stink of failure on me. Eventually, I figured out that I didn't. And I re-drafted my resume AGAIN and got out on the job hunt AGAIN and temped with a variety of companies AGAIN and eventually found a job that I clicked with.
Which is what Joe will have to do now. Once he gets out of the rut that he's in now. Once he realizes that he doesn't stink of failure either. Once he actually understands that this is opportunity and not abject failure. I hope he gets to that point soon.

The Girl With The Bright Red Hair.
There's not too much to report here, but it's just nice to know that somewhere out in this great, big, concrete city, there's a girl walking around, thinking the occasionally nice thing about me. An occasionally romantic thought about me. An occasionally hopeful thought about me.
I am thinking them about her too. I think we're both thinking, "Please don't let this person turn out to be a lunatic or a disappointment. Please let this person be good and sweet and kind and loving to me." You know, the same thing we all want. It would be a nice change of pace if it actually turned out that way, for once. I am ready for that to happen. I am ready to do whatever I can, to MAKE that happen.
Let's try not to over-think this one, then. Next topic, please.

The Reason For The Season.
Is Christmas Music. Well, in my book it is. I inherited a genetic predisposition for Christmas music from my dad. My dad LOVES Christmas music. His happiest time of the year is Christmas Eve, watching someone, anyone, unwrap presents in his living room, beside his Christmas tree, with a small, dainty glass of egg-nog playing, while Perry Como sings about "dashing dashing through the snow! Christmas Bells are Ring-ing!" Christmas music is so intimately tied to so many happy memories for him and by extension to me. A new Christmas CD was always a good present for him. (I think this year, he will be introduced to Sufjan Stevens Xmas album. And that I'll be burning a copy for myself before I leave home after the holidays.)
In preparation for the holiday season, I've been adding Christmas music to my ipod for two weeks now. I've created the "XmasMix" playlist, which covers over 12 hours of wonderful, joyful, uplifting Christmas music from the talented likes of Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Nat "King" Cole and Vince Guaraldi.
Thanks to the Library Grift, I've also added a few incredible holiday gems to the playlist.
"Christmas with the Rat Pack"
"A Christmas Present from Phil Spector To You"
"The Christmas Song" by Nat "King" Cole.
"James Brown presents A Soulful Christmas"

And speeding their way across the city to me are the following classics...
"A Holly Jolly Christmas" with Frank Sinatra
Dr.Demento's Krazy Kristmas Klassiks (or something like that).
"A Spike Jones Christmas"
"Billboard's Best R&B Christmas Songs."
"A Blue Note Christmas"

If you were to ask me what my absolutely favorite Christmas album discovery has been, though, I would have to say, without any question, that I am IN LOVE with the Ultra-Lounge album, "Christmas Cocktails" Vol.1. This jazzy, sexy, funny little Christmas collection opens with Billie May's "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer Mambo" and never lets up! Also getting regular rotation in my earholes are Lou Rawls' "Christmas Is" and "Holiday on Skis". If you've seen me listening to my ipod at all for the past two weeks, THIS is what I've been listening to. Run, don't walk, to get this album. (Or download it from Itunes.) I'll be picking up Volumes 2 & 3 this weekend.

Ah Fuck It. Here's the Billie May track that I was telling you about. Give it a listen. If it twinkles your toes, then you'll know if the whole album is for you or not.

Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer Mambo - Billy May - Various Artists

Christmas in Gatlinburg.
The next thing that I am most looking forward to is the weekend after Christmas. I've been invited to join my mom, stepdad, aunt and uncle, cousins, their husbands and their three kids for an extended weekend in Gatlinburg, TN. This is a holiday tradition that they've enjoyed for two or three years now. The whole bunch of them trundle off for a long weekend in the city. They have a picnic breakfast to celebrate the birthday of one of they only young boy of the bunch. There is go-carting. There is shopping for the parents. The kids get a day or two to explore the tourist attractions of Gatlinburg, which include The Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum", the multiple motorized Haunted Houses, the wax museums, the arcades, the shooting galleries, the toboggan courses, the indoor sky-diving, the sky needle! Yeah, you can see why I'm going this year, yes?

I visited Gstlinburg two or three times as an adolescent boy in the Boy Scouts, many, many years ago. And it really was the Appalachian Disneyland. I blew so much money on the haunted houses and the Ripley's Museum (which opens with a cracked barrel of water that funnels water UP into a pipe on the ceiling!!! You've GOT to check out a place that opens with defying of gravity and only gets better from there). I can't wait to explore the town with my cousins and their kids. I want to see if young Kyle's face looks the same way MINE did, when I saw that barrel and water business.

Also, I've GOT to try that Indoor Skydiving business. I mean, you stand on a giant fan that blows you so hard, that you levitate inside a circular tower with padded walls that go up two stories. Who WOULDN'T want to fly indoors?!?

Incredible!

Sn ow Qu een Opens on Monday.
And the best early Christmas present that I can offer you are free tickets for the Opening Night on Monday. I'm saving you $40 and inviting you to join me on the first performance of the best little show that you've never thought to attend. Seriously, get up on this. You can thank me afterwards. And you will. Because it's wonderful. And you'll be glad you saw it.
So, shoot me an email at work and get on the reservation list for this show. It's filling up fast.

Okay, I've wasted a full hour on this post. And I didn't really get around to listing the random things that I am thankful for. In order to fulfill that annual tradition, here's my list of Ten Things That I am Thankful For.

Ten Things That I am Thankful For.

1. Boobs.
2. Full Time Employment.
3. Obama is the next prez.
4. My Dog.
5. My Ipod.
6. Jazz Music.
7. The Tacqueria at the corner of Lincoln & Montrose.
8. The Chicago Public Library System.
9. 8 Years In The Greatest City on Earth. (Shh, don't tell the other cities!)
10.You

There. See? You made it on my list. I am Thankful For You. (And if you work on it and put some time in, maybe you'll rank higher than my neighborhood tacqueria, next year. Although, I wouldn't count on it. It's a pretty great tacqueria.)

Now, get back to work, corporate drones. You've got five more hours to go, before you can go home and make a delicious cold-turkey sandwich!

Cheers,
Mr.B

Happy Thanksgiving, 2008!

2008-11-27T12:24:00.003-06:00

Joe and I were just talking about how amusing it is that we receive a dozen "Happy Thanksgiving Day!" text messages, sometimes from numbers that we don't even recognize. The Thanksgiving text message has officially replaced cards and phone calls. It's fun to recognize how technology alters our social patterns, isn't it? Says the guy who is posting a general "Happy Thanksgiving Day" post on his blog, for anyone and everyone to read. Forever.

May your Thanksgiving be spent with those that you love!

Cheers,
Mr.B

Want A Free Ticket To A Show?!?

2008-11-26T10:23:00.003-06:00

I've just been told by one of the development folks in our theater that we have a block of seats available for the Monday, Dec. 1st performance of The Sn ow Qu een. It's our holiday show and it's incredible. Folk music, rock music, ballads, comedy numbers, heart-breaking ballads and an incredibly vocal ending that will absolutely break the thin veneer of crust on your cold, dead heart and make you feel genuinely good.

Anyways, a board member of the theater set aside a big block of tickets and just cancelled, so there are now a bunch of open seats for the opening night performance. I've just been given the go-ahead to offer up tickets to friends - and seeing as that's YOU, well, this is me offering them to you.

The show is on Monday, Dec. 1st at 7:30pm at The Bio Graph Theater. If you want to go, shoot me an email at my work address which is cbiddle@ victo rygardens. org. (I broke that up to avoid spambots and Google searches. Just combine those segments to form the actual email address.) I can give you a +1 if you want to bring a friend and there will be wine and beer offered afterwards, mingling with the cast and crew. A full, Opening Night Soiree.

In full disclosure, it's a fantastic show. My favorite thing that we did last year. I saw it 5 times last year, bringing every friend I could finagle to come see it. Here's YOUR chance to check it out, for free, and enjoy the Opening Night shenanigans, too.

Cheers,
Mr.B

The Girl With The Bright Red Hair

2008-11-25T15:31:00.007-06:00

Met a girl on Saturday night.
We flirted, drank together, and even stole a moment to get away from the group and explore a little intimate moment together.

Talked to the same girl on the phone last night.
2 hours of "Have you ever"s and "Once I went to"s and "Would you like to"s. Rather than wasting a lot of time re-capping our one night together, conversation naturally and easily flowed from personal anecdotes and our recent histories, and a few gentle hints of the futures we would wish for each other.

Seeing A Show With Her On Sunday.
Our first, post-party get-together is scheduled for Sunday night. We have loose plans and a back-up plan if they don't work out. The important thing is that we get some time to see and hear each other and get used to the idea of the existence of the other person. To look over and see that they're still there. To gain some context on who we are...

I'm looking forward to it. Every indicator that I have is that this girl is smart, funny, sensitive, alive and aware. Every indicator is that time spent with her is pretty low drama. That she's a person that you could build a solid foundation with.

What Does All Of This Mean?
I know it's too early to really know all of that stuff, but in the same way that a pilot can sit in the cockpit of his plane, survey the clear skies and the smooth jet streams before he runs his maneuvers and know that it's a good day for flying, I can judge accurately that from here, she looks like someone pretty special.

So, yes, there's a girl. A new girl.

And it's nice to have someone interested in me too. Lately, I've had these fleeting crushes on people who haven't reciprocated them. It's nice to look at a pretty girl and have her look back at me with interest. It's such a simple thing, but when you've been without it for a while, you can almost forget how important it is.

That's all.

Cheers,
Mr.B

"I'll have a slice of HOPE, please."

2008-11-21T18:05:00.004-06:00

I just read online that Barack Obama just got lunch today at "Manny's" in the Loop at 12:29pm. Picked up his corned beef sandwiches, paid the bill in cash, shook some hands and got out of there.

I like Manny's. I've been there several times for lunch with Hendo, when I used to work down in the Loop. I think that's awesome. I would like to be enjoying a lunch and have Barack Obama walk in. I would like to shake his hand and tell him how proud I was that he won the election.

Living in the president's hometown for the next four years will be a periodic and random source of coolness. Coolness like this.

My Thanksgiving Plans.

2008-11-20T15:29:00.003-06:00

Thanksgiving looms on the horizon of next week and I have just made my plans. Last year, I ended up at Johnny's house, drunk in his hot-tub, wondering if I was actually going to work the day after the holiday. (I did. The office was nearly empty and those of us who were there left early.) I got an invitation to go to Johnny's again, this year, but I probably won't go. As I get older, that crowd of people keeps evolving and I know fewer and fewer people there, the longer I go to parties at Johnny's house.

This year, I intentionally avoided going home for holiday because I thought I would have a paid improv gig for Friday evening. But that gig went to a stand-up comedian instead. So, there is really no reason to NOT go home for the weekend.

Last night, though, while working late in the office, my boss invited me to celebrate the holiday with her and her husband (my other boss). I think I am going to accept the invitation. I've worked for them for a year now and I can already feel the edges of this professional relationship failing under the pressure of my genuine respect and admiration for them both. I wonder about how they will both react to having me around, in their home, for a few hours and through a sit-down dinner. I guess I'll find out, because I am going to accept the invitation. I'm going to make sure that I don't overstay my welcome. And of course, I'll bring a desert to contribute to the meal.

One of my two bosses is leaving her position at the theater (after 30+ years!) It's going to be hard to adjust to life without her, both good and bad. I don't know if she'll be around the theater to give me an invitation to thanksgiving, so I'm taking this chance now, while I can.

I won't be in a hot-tub, trying to talk two sexy, drunk, 20-something girls into kissing each other like I did last year, but I bet I am handed a snifter of good scotch and told some really wonderful Chicago theater stories. I am looking forward to that.

Do yourself a favor and spend your Thanksgiving with your family. Maybe your biological family. But it doesn't have to be. You could certainly spend time with your "city family" or at one of the many Orphan's Dinners. Just be sure to be with friends, wherever you are. People you appreciate, who appreciate you. Eat well. Enjoy good conversation. Good for the body. Good for the soul. That's something to be thankful for.

Cheers,
COB

Where The Wild Things Are: First Look!

2008-11-20T13:33:00.004-06:00

AICN has this nice interview between "Moriarty" and Spike Jonze, who is directing "Where the Wild Things Are" as a live action film. It's a fascinating interview because Moriarty has seen a rough cut of the film and he speaks casually about it with Jonze, who is typically very interview-shy. There's even a moment where Jonze polls "Moriarty" for his opinion on whether some pics they're looking at should be released pre-film release or after. Jonze is looking for an actual opinion and "Moriarty" gives a smart response. It's fascinating to peek into the an actual discussion and decision-making process, which normally takes place hidden away in board rooms and in marketing departments.

Additionally, the notices that I heard last year that the film was in serious trouble are explained better here. The film isn't bad or terribly written or over-directed, it is TONALLY different than what the studios thought they were getting and it panicked them. Jonze also shot it in a way that is labor-intensive (shooting in Australia, with body-suit puppets of the Wild Things, which are supposed to get facial expressions created later in post, but matching the wildly variable, organic look of the live footage. A challenge for computer animators who typically prefer to work in more controlled environments.) Jonze co-scripted the film with Dave Eggers. I'm fascinated that Eggers had a hand in this thing. I'm curious to see what he brought to the project.

One more cool hook about this film, Jonze talks about how he got into the process of expanding a ten sentence book into a full length feature film. Rather than tacking plotlines and other nonsense onto the film, Jonze delves deeper into who the Wild Things are and how they became Wild Things and what they want. Why DO they subjugate themselves to a small, very-breakable human child? One clue to this answer is that the Wild Things embody Wild Emotions that children often feel. Anger. Jealousy. Joy. Suspicion. Fear. Things that children can't control. Given the chance to run "wild" they become the Wild Things or are personified by the Wild Things.

I think that's a smart idea. Fleshing out what Sendak wrote, without needlessly complicating things. (Sendak has been involved with this process since Day One and is absolutely on board with this film.) By making smart decisions like this, I think that the movie can avoid ending up over-produced and absolutely charmless, like "Cat In The Hat".

AICN also posted these two exclusive pics, which hint at the design and look of the Wild Things, without giving too much away. I like everything I've seen about this film. I'll absolutely be checking it out in Halloween of next year.

Cheers,
Mr.B

The Latent Allure of the 70's.

2008-11-18T10:37:00.005-06:00

Me, personally, I don't remember much from the 70's.

I was born in 1975.

I spent 1975 through 1976 being passed around a group of adults and searching out the tit. I also ate anything you handed, slept wherever I wanted and laughed at everything!

In 1976, I experimented, like many of my colleagues with walking and finally broke myself of the nasty habit of shitting my own pants. (What can I say, they were crazy times.) I grew my hair out long (like Nicholas on "Eight Is Enough!") and became a counter-culture, having long conversations with imaginary characters that only I could see. I was big into Sesame Street and listened to classic rockers like Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. My favorite song was "The Bare Necessities" and I think that was one of the foundations of my adult philosophies.

Oh sure, it wasn't all peaches and roses, baby. Parents divorced in 1978 and that same year I was pretty convinced that a monster called Mr. Widemouth lived in my closet and wanted to eat me up. After one long night of cowering in fear from Mr. Widemouth, I risked dismemberment and went to pee in the bathroom. In the dark, I mistook my mothers closet for the potty and pissed all over her shoes. That was my low point. '78 was a hard year for me.

But I blossomed in 1979 in the the full expression of my hippy lifestyle. At the age of 4, I began pre-school where I enjoyed communal nap-times with my friends, elaborate pretend co-habitation scenarios with both boys and girls and developed a VERY early crush on Miss Robin, my pre-school teacher. I used the potty like a big boy and was very good at wiping my butt. I excelled in it, really. I was proud of my pee-pee and showed it to anyone who wanted to see it. I was also interested in other pee-pees and hoo-hoos. If you wanted to show them to me, I would be happy to take a gander at them, too. I guess you could say that other foundations of my adult philosophy were formed then, too.

As the American culture shook off the tacky, care-nothing, hairy-underbelly of the seventies and began to slide in the neon-lit, thin-necktied, high-gloss of the eighties, so too, did I grow up. By 1980, I was 5 and was also ready to upgrade my lifestyle too. I took baths alone, used the potty alone and fell into the monotonous work-a-day drone of being a first grader. Early to rise, off to school with my other co-workers, debating the important issues of Batman versus Superman, who was or wasn't retarded and what a boob felt like. At the end of a day, I would come back home from school to my mothers house and would watch tv or play Atari until my mom got home. On weekends, I would visit my dad and we would go see movies and eat fast food because each weekend with him was a celebration.

That was the seventies that I remember. I was pretty caught up in my own game, you know? I had my own bag of stuff going on and I missed out on the what the rest of the world was up to.

Saturday Night Live premiered in 1975 but I was well asleep before it came on.

Star Wars was released in 1978 but I couldn't follow plot or distinguish what or wasn't real in a movie, so it was lost on me.

There was a global oil crisis in 1979, but that didn't affect how far or fast my tricycle could get me.

Punk, disco, jazz-rock fusion and hip-hop were born, but I was busy singing about my "ABC's" to anyone who would "sing along with me".

When I got older, I was honestly embarrassed by the seventies that I knew. My dad had a bushy porn-star mustache. My mom dressed like Stevie Nicks. My grandmother emulated Tammy Wynette and everyone drove big, boat-sized cars. We watched Hee-Haw on tv and spoke poorly of the blacks. We went to church on Sundays... well... religiously. We concerned ourselves with the minutiae of family life. Birthdays. Holidays. Funerals. Everything was covered in polyester or was swaddled on thick, plush carpeting and was coated in matching brown and orange. People painted their homes in colors that didn't match or make any sense and looked to Holly Hobby for fashion advice. It was as if every man, woman and child in America said, "What would the world be like if nobody gave a shit what they looked like or where they lived?", explored that for a few years and then jolted themselves back to hyper-awareness in the 80's out of deep, deep embarrassment.

Lately, though, I've forgiven the tacky fucking seventies for what they were. A period of selfless experimentation and rejection of the tight-laced 50's and the wild 60's. We didn't trust our government anymore. We didn't trust our parents or our churches anymore. We were wild to set our own way and do our own thing and sometimes the explorations lead us down weird or unsightly places, oh, like "Elton John" rock performances or "Ziggy Stardust" or "KISS".

Now, when I see the clothes and the hippies and they actually look fun and funny to me. I would grow my hair into a ponytail right now, if I could. I dig the big moustache and the beards. I listen to Blind Faith, David Bowie and Curtis Mayfield. I like soul and jazz and funk. I could get stoned, sink into a bean-bag and listen to "Frampton Comes Alive" WAY TOO LOUD and be perfectly happy. "Do YOU feel like I DO?!?"

I recently saw "Zodiac" and while the murders weren't appealing at all, the grittiness and texture of the 1970's really spoke to me. I wanted to step into the movie and drink the bad coffee, watch the boring, toneless television, escape the pagers and cell-phones and ride around San Francisco in a big, yellow cab and just watch the city go by. I want to live in an apartment that isn't as jacked into the electronic world as my current apartment is. I don't want gadgets, ipod, gear-clocks and DVRs. I want wood-slat blinds, sexy-ass rock concerts, guilt-free cigarettes, hassle-free sex and Coca-Cola in a glass bottle.

Maybe I'm developing nostalgia for a decade that I only briefly visited. Maybe our culture has outgrown out disdain for the decade and embraced some of it's charms. I can't tell if this is an individual attitude of mine or a reflection of the current culture, in general. I am only now becoming aware of my own attraction to the 70's.

I.
Can.
Dig.
It.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Yeah, About That Untouched Business...

2008-11-16T19:12:00.004-06:00

Yeah, I'm calling that whole thing off. And as a reminder to myself about how "NOT EVERYHING MAKES A GREAT BLOG POST", I'm not deleting that whole mess from this blog.

You know what? Some ideas are best kept to yourself. This was one of those.

So, don't come up to me and gloat because I tried it and then called it off. I don't want to talk about my masturbation habits with you. Let's just go back to that age-old unspoken agreement where you pretend that I don't do it and I don't correct you on it. Just like we both pretend that YOU don't do it and you don't correct me on it. (With the primary difference being that if YOU decide to try to quit for 30 days, I won't know about it.)

And this isn't because I tried and failed, although, technically that's exactly what happened. This is because there's this lovely nice girl at work who occasionally reads my blog and I saw her on Saturday night and thought to myself, "Oh God, what if she's looking at me right now and is thinking about how much I do or do not masturbate?!?" Can there be anything worse than that? No wonder she doesn't hang out with me socially. I sound and act like a crazy person on this blog. Well, an entertainingly public crazy person.

So, yes, let's quietly shelve this up there with the other dumb things I tried to do in my life, right between "At the age of 12, tried to get my name legally changed to Chester" and "the summer I dressed exclusively in clothes as seen on Miami Vice and was about 60 pounds overweight". God, there've been some bonehead ideas in my day. This was one of those.

Everyone go about your business. Watch a funny YouTube video or something. Let's pretend this never happened. Move along.

Recoiling in shame,
Mr.B

PS. Good Christ, I made a blogger tag for this thing. As if there were going to be so many entertaining posts about it, that I would need a system to track them all. Lord help me. Sometimes I am a fool.

Get Up On: Quantum of Solace

2008-11-16T11:52:00.004-06:00

Let me be really quick about this. This shouldn't take a whole lot of convincing on my part. I shouldn't have to work hard to convince you to do something that you already should know that you want to do.

But you should go see "Quantum of Solace" as soon as possible.
Preferably in a nice, large movie theater.

I saw it on Friday night and I had a BLAST! This is the James Bond movie that I've been waiting to see. After this, I am fully on board for the re-boot. Gone are the gadgets, the romances, the grotesque villains. The Bond movie is firmly rooted in the real world. And I like that. I would've thought that I would've missed those touchstones of the Bond franchise, but I didn't. (Well, to be totally honest, I was done with the romance of a new girl in every movie and the double entendre names of the characters had worn itself thin, too.)

When I saw "Casino Royale" I generally liked it, but it's hard to get excited about watching Bond play high stakes poker. He felt restrained by the plot. Like he could do more, but that movie didn't let him. "QOS" releases Bond out into the real world in a very big way.

Bond does not give a shit. If he wants your car, he will take your car. If he wants a boat, he will take the boat. If he wants to stop someone, he'll ram their car and pull them out of the wreckage. Maybe because so much of this plot is driven by his relentless rage and need for revenge, but this Bond uses blunt instruments. If it's quicker to kill a guy, than to torture them for information, then he'll kill them and move on. He leaves a tremendous body count behind him, in this movie. And he knows it. You can see him struggling with the consequences of his actions. Sure, a license to kill means that you can whack a bartender to get a drink, but the downside to that is that you can't really form any attachments, because everyone around you could be whacked at any time. (The bartender scenario is hypothetical and isn't in the movie.)

I think it's clear that this Bond movie owes a few nods to "The Bourne Identity". The plot rambles unpredictably, like a Bourne movie. The action sequences are brutal, fast and devoid of clunky setups to get to some crazy-ass, unbelievable death for a villain. But it's good to see the movie series that started it all, reclaim it's position at the top of the pile. It's good to see a Bond movie that feels like a Bond movie, again.

So, yes, well worth your 8.50 and that's not even counting the geek-gasm you get for seeing the first Star Trek trailer at the beginning of the movie. That movie already has my 10 bucks, too.

Happy to be in a movie theater again,
Mr.B

Welcome Back, Mr.Bond.

Day 1: Untouched.

2008-11-15T01:13:00.004-06:00

So, while crossing Halsted street, to catch a bus up to Boystown to get a drink at the Town Hall Pub with some buddies of mine, I was thinking about sex.

Which is no surprise. I think about sex often. So do you, if you're honest about it.

But I wasn't thinking about boobs or screwing or orgasms or reliving some dirty-ass memory. Instead, i was thinking about sex and my own sex drive and how often I want it and did I used to want it more. You know, sort of doing a sexual inventory, of sorts.

I think that I used to be very good at sex. I think that I did a remarkably good job, tending to the needs of the women I was with. In college, I was a maniac, but a focused one. I was always up for "one more" and "oh, let's try this position I saw in a porn, once". An absolute maniac.

But that was ten or more years ago. And I think times have changed. I think my performance and stamina have changed. Lessened. I think that they've lessened, somehow.

The last girl I was with was a maniac. If I'd met her in college, and been into meeting her challenge, A.) we would've both been chapped and rubbed raw after a single weekend and B.) we would've gotten absolutely nothing done in a weekend. But meeting her now, well, it didn't go well. I tried, honestly, I tried. But she always wanted more. More of everything. Not size. No problems there, mind you. But longer sessions, deeper screwing, screwing more often. She also wanted to be strangled, which might tell me that there was something else going on beyond my own physical limitations. But still, those nights, when she would lay next to me and say, "Hey, you wanna do it again?" and I would think, "Christ, lady, I can't do it again. Let me go to sleep" and then I would reluctantly roll over to her and take an increasingly disappointing run at it.

You see? Lessened.

Alone, though, devoid of a partner, it's a different story. I wake up in the morning and think, "God, that as a terrible nightmare. I should probably wank off. That will make me feel better." Or if my roommate is out with his girlfriend, I think, "Hm, I better go toss one off. Dunno when he'll be back. Better make use of the time before he gets home." Late at night, a night not unlike this one, I'll finish blogging or checking email or downloading music into the ipod and then click over to some amazing, free porn site as a second thought, Boom, next thing I know, I've had an orgasm and want to go to bed. I sleep very, very well.

So, perhaps things aren't lessened all that much. I'm very active, sexually. Just not with my partner. (And in the interest of full disclosure, I would mention that I could not match the libido of the girlfriend before this last one, either. Again, she was a maniac and I was the waste of flesh, willing to do anything with my face and hands that she wanted, because my poor, poor dick needed some down-time.)

This was the back-story that was racing around in my mind, as I crossed Halsted street to catch the #8 bus.

I used to be pretty good in bed.
Am I still?
What if I'm not and I just don't know it?
What if I leave girls unsatisfied and they're just too polite to tell me?
Christ, I don't want to be bad in bed. That would be terrible.
Well, it would be, if I were dating someone.
But I might date someone, so maybe I better get in shape, now, to be ready for then.
I better hit the gym. All this extra weight can't be helping. It's got to be affecting my blood flow. I probably better re-think my diet too.
I should also think about cutting down on all the tossing off. Every morning? Every night? And most showers? Seriously, maybe the problem with keeping up with my past lovers was that I was already worn out from my own sessions alone, that there wasn't anything else for anyone else.
So, maybe I better cut down on all of the self-love.
Maybe I better just cut it out altogether.

And that's when it hit me. My next experiment. My next challenge for myself.

I'm going to swear off from jerking off for as long as I possibly can.

Let's just see how a little time off from sex, altogether, affects the libido. Will a man, denied water, want it that much more? Or will he forget what it tastes like altogether?

That's what we'll find out, together, you and I.
Today is Saturday, Nov.15, 2008. Day 1 of "The Untouched Challenge". Let's see how long I can go without masturbation and what this deprivation does to my body and mind. I'll post about it occasionally here, in the blog, to keep you informed of the mental and physical effects. Of course, I'll want to blog about other things, too. So, let's discretely keep track of my days without self-injury with a handy tracker in my sidebar. I'll call it "Days without Self Injury" and update it daily, until I break down and touch myself... or end up in a clock-tower with a rifle, picking off coeds and screaming, "Who's fucked now, sister?!?" the counter will track my days off. In essence, you can play along from home, but still keep on doing what you want to be doing.

Let's take this journey together, you and I, and see what lies on the other side.

Cheers,
Mr.B

You Must Respect The Gooch.

2008-11-14T11:33:00.005-06:00

Do you know what the "Gooch" is?

According to this entry on the Urban Dictionary, The Gooch is

1. Name of a bully who used to bother Arnold from the sit-com, "Different Strokes".

and

2. Nickname for James Giugliano, a person who used to bully people in the same fashion.

But I know The Gooch by it's second definition...

According to Johnny Knoxville, the area between a mans balls and his asshole. Equivilent to the "chin rest" on a woman

Yeah, The Gooch is medically known as The Perineum. Wikipedia has some NSFW pics of it here. Supposedly it's wicked sensitive and one of the under-utilized erogenous zones of the body. (I know I underuse my own.) On the tv show, "Jackass" the Perineum or the "Gooch", as they call it, sees lots of action. It gets shocked with medical electrodes, whacked with a dog bone, kicked by pre-schoolers and lacerated by a pair of bunjee underwear. (Go look for those clips on YouTube. Or rent the DVDs. Whatever works best for you.)

So, it was with some alarm, that I just overheard the theater's crackerjack development team title the specialty drink for Saturday's Gala event, "The Gooch"! You see, in the play that they're promoting, there's a character named "Agnes Gooch" and they're naming the drink after her. (It's some fruity vodka concoction.)

At first, I thought it was vaguely funny that these people will be ordering a drink at the bar that's only slightly less well know, but equally as scatological as a "Taint". But then I thought that most of the older folks who will be AT this event, won't know what the name "Gooch" has evolved to mean. So, they'll order and drink up their "Gooch"s and not know how ridiculous that is. But I thought, "Well, I better, at least, forewarn the Head of Development about this" and I didn't want to broadcast it around the offices, so I wrote a small note on post-it, saying,

Hey there,
Not to be gross or anything, but the term, "The Gooch" has evolved to refer to the fleshy area between a person's rectum and their genitals. They use it on "Jackass" all the time. I just wanted you to know.
Thanks,
Mr.B

The development staff member, a sweet, but totally sheltered soul, came over to her desk, bent over, read the note, said, "Ewwwww!" and then looked up at me to see if I was kidding or not. I smiled sheepishly and said, "Sorry about that".

She said, "Well, it's a name of a character in the show", wadded up the note, threw it away and proceeded to finish filling out signage advertising "The Gooch" at a reasonable bar rate.

I know, without having to hear the conversation, that she's going to go to her co-worker, a horrible, wretched, complaining individual and tell her the story about the "nasty" note that I left on her desk. I know that this is going to turn into a story illustrating how innapropriate I am. Somehow this will be told to illustrate a character flaw of mine. I know this as surely as the sun will rise and set tomorrow.

Because God Forbid I actually know what I'm talking about and help someone prevent a social faux pas, by actually listening to me. God Forbid we value the experience and knowledge of someone who knows about something OTHER THAN original play production. God Forbid that we take in new information and acknowledge that there's a world beyond our sheltered little experience.

I have to work the event tomorrow night. When I'm not working, I'm going to hang around the bar and hawk as many "Gooches" as I can. I'll ask the patrons...

"Have you tasted The Gooch, yet? It's fantastic!"

and

"Wait until you get down your first Gooch! After that, they fly by! You won't know how many Gooches you've had, when you're through!"

and

"I'm having a Gooch. You have to try it. Taste my Gooch."

I'll propose toasts and encourage everyone to raise up their "Gooch"s and we'll toast live theater, the voice of the modern man, and then we'll adjourn to the buffet for plates of "Camel Toes" and "Moose Knuckles"!

Ridiculous.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Can you find the "Gooch" in this picture? I bet you can!

National Commercial Features Ladewig Waggling His Wand At America!

2008-11-13T01:25:00.005-06:00

Watching South Park tonight and who popped up in a NATIONAL commercial, hawking video games to me... but Portland Improv Sensation and Cute Dog Owner, BOB LADEWIG!

Don't believe me?

Well, peep these hot screen captures!

And take a look at this trailer!

The Handsomest Man in Improv waves his Wii Wand at you at :20 of this trailer! (He's the fella in the yellow shirt with the black stripes.)

So, congratulate Bob on his National Commercialdom. And next time you see him, ask him the funny story about how he ended up in Paris, pitching this very game to people. Yeah, you heard me. Paris, baby, Paris!

EDITED TO ADD:
Waitaminnit! Here he is again! Only this time he's with a Mexican wrassler! God Bless America! Bob be havin' all sorts of adventures!

Trike-less, for now.

2008-11-13T00:58:00.004-06:00

Trike purchased on Sunday.

It is now Thursday.

I have yet to go get it. The weather has been either rainy or freezing cold. Too cold to ride an adult tricycle home from the theater.

So, it sits in the future room at the theater.

And I am here.

And we are apart.

For now.

I WILL claim that trike.

I WILL ride it home.

I WILL run errands in my neighborhood on her.

Soon.

Yes. Very soon.

Nice trike, bitch.

PS. Did I mention that the trike and I are doing a fun run on Nov. 30th? Well, we are! Up in Evanston. I've been clearance by the race organizers to ride the trike instead of running. I'm itching to have any excuse to take her out for a spin. A tiny 5k fun run is the perfect excuse!

This is me doing my Happy Dance!

2008-11-12T15:56:00.003-06:00

I have to be vague about this, because nothing is set or final. But here's what I can say... a Very Important Someone just walked up to me, quietly pulled me aside and had a private conversation with me about Something Important. This Someone asked me questions, looking for my opinion and candidly indicated to me that they're thinking about doing This Thing That I Want Them To Do.

If This Thing happens, it will be good for me. Good for my workplace. Good for my co-workers. And very, very good for a friend of mine.

Wow.

Tomorrow is going to be a Very Big Day.

Sorry to be so vague. I just wanted to blog about the abstract feeling of elation that I have right now. I want to go to each person in my office and say, "This Really Great Thing is COMING!" and have them get it and then we all dance around about the Good Times Ahead. But because it's secret and I've been instructed NOT to talk about it, this blog entry is as close as I can get to disclosure.

Yeah, so... nothing to see here. Move along, people. Just move along.

Cheers,
Mr.B

PS. No. This has nothing to do with any circus. I should clarify for both of my regular readers.

This is me. Doing my Happy Dance.
No, wait. That's my Sexy Dance.

Get Up On: Bloggers New Follow Function.

2008-11-10T23:15:00.004-06:00

Get Up On: Publicly Following Blogs!

Honestly, I didn't pay any attention to it when it hit. Sometimes it takes me a while to adapt to new technology. (I didn't have a CD player until a full three years after they hit and I still don't know what the GENIUS on my Itunes is supposed to do.) But then, one day, as I was walking past my Dashboard to go post some brilliant post, I saw that I had a Follower.

"1 Follower" it helpfully said. And when I clicked on it, there was a link to my one and only follower, Mr.Matt who artfully keeps this charming blog, right here.

After checking things out a little bit, I got the skinny on this whole "Following" business. The deal is, once you "Follow" a blog, the latest updates of it appear on the Dashboard of your blog. If you see something interesting, you click on the entry and it pops up in a new window and VIola! You've got an updated Reader that tracks latest entries from your favorite blogs. It's like you have a constantly updating newspaper full of whatever your favorite writers and friends are up to. It's a newspaper customized to my interests. I care much more what you people are up to and a lot less what Britney Spears is up to. So, it's the perfect newspaper.

Also, it makes people happy to see that someone is following their blog. Look at this! I followed this guy and got a shout-out on his blog for being his internet buddy. A week later, I gave him a hundred bucks to settle an old tab! So, in THIS case, using the follow function made this guy a HUNDRED BUCKS!

Also, you can create a widget in your sidebar that brags about the high quality folks that check out your blog. Which links them back to their blog. The Internet Superhighway equivalent of the Circle of Life.

Also, you can add another widget that updates your sidebar with the latest posts of the blogs that you follow. I haven't done this yet, but it's coming soon. People will look at my blog and say, "Oh! Arnie posted something new! Let me see what he's up to!" Trust me, it will happen.

There are only two drawbacks to this great, big, free-text, love-in...

A.) First, you have to PUBLICLY follow a blog to let the blogger know that you read his/her stuff. Otherwise, why post a widget displaying your one reader, when your blog is actually getting a ton of hits. (And of course, you have to have a Blogger acct to be a Blogger follower. Which is hard cheese to the blog-impaired, but that's your own fault for fearing words.)

B.) Second...I forgot what the other drawback is. I was so amused by my clever use of the term "Hard Cheese for [somebody]" that I forgot the second point that I was going to make. Oh well, Hard Cheese for me, I guess?

So, really, there's only a single drawback to keep you from following a blog (publicly) and it's not a very good one. If we all adopt this system, we will all look and feel appreciated by tens of twenty's of people. Insanely popular amongst a select group of people who already know us in real life. And isn't that exactly the sort of thing that we should encourage.

In summary, here are my key points.

1.) Publicly follow the blogs that you like. Good for them. Good for you.

2.) "Hard Cheese" is a clever turn of phrase. Use it often.

Oh wait! I just remembered the other drawback. Blogger Follower doesn't recognize and update every blog. Try as I might, I can't get it to recognize my favorite sex column "Violet Blue" (NSFW, kiddies!) Instead, I have to manually click over there to see what that naughty little minx is up to. So, it's not a perfect system.

But don't let that be a drawback for you, either. Embrace the system that's currently in place. Trust that Blogger will work out the kinks and share the love. Follow the blogs that you love. Or at least that interest you. Let a blogger know that you appreciate their narcissistic navel-gazing. (At the very least, you'll see your clever profile pic pop up in a teeny tiny pic on somebody's sidebar! That's something, right?)

Get Up On: Publicly Following the Blogs You Love.

Obama: The Honeymoon Continues...

2008-11-10T10:48:00.005-06:00

I just read today that Obama is quietly making plans to close Guantanamo Bay. As it turns out, you DON'T have to hold people indefinitely with no plans to put them through trial, releasing the innocent or punishing the guilty. It turns out that they can be given a fair trial and get on with their lives, withouth being institutionalized forever.

Oh Obama, is there no aggregious wrong from the last eight years that you can't easily identify and then firmly reverse or correct in less than a week?

It's like you read my "Things That Are Shitty About This Country" diary and made a list of everything that needs to be fixed and assembled a list of 200+ Bush-sponsored wrongs that need to be corrected.

I feel like the young bride who has married this powerful, strong, smart Harvard graduate who keeps impressing me with amazing, romantic gesture after romantic gesture. I want to run out to all of my girlfriends and say, "Oh my god. You'll never believe what he did next ... he's going to get another stimulus package for the middle class and wants to lift the ban on stem-cell research and then he made me a delish tuna-salad! I know, he's TOTALLY amazing, right?!?"

I keep waiting for us to have our first fight "Obama! How could you agree to maintain NAFTA under carefully-regulated restrictions?!? It's NAFTA or me, Barack!" and my mother tells me not to fall in love to quickly, but I just can't help myself. I don't know if he's just unilaterally wonderful or if things were just so incredibly shitty before that any sort of sensible, humane governance looks like FDR-style, ticker-tape worthy, sweeping reform! Maybe it's a mix of both.

Whatever the justification, that man won me over, big-time and he continues to win me over, time and time again. I sure do love that man of mine!

Slightly Gay for the President-Elect,
Mr.B

My Weakness for Apple commercials & That Damned E-Trade Baby.

2008-11-08T22:44:00.004-06:00

I can be pretty rabidly anti-commercial, meaning that I get angry when I feel like people are trying to sell something to me that I don't want or need. Generally speaking, I hate commercials. I watch most tv programs on my DVR, when I get around to it and it's a sublime treat to fast-forward the commercials (and the jokes on "Funniest Home Videos" - I'm only there for the clumsy dogs, baby farts and crotch hits.)

That said, there is one brand of commercials that I will stop and watch every... fucking... time.

Apple commercials.

I don't know why they capture my attention like they do. But they do. Maybe it's their simplicity or their use (or lack of color). They never make me want to run out and buy the Apple product, but I have been known to discover music through them.

I saw this commercial and immediately Googled the artist and the song and bought it off of Itunes.

Of course, it's Feist. And the song is "1234". And I really DO dig that song. The whole album "The Reminder" is actually pretty good. But that song. Well, it just puts me in a damned good mood.

Boom. I became a consumer because of something I saw in a commercial.

A few months later, the same thing happened to me, when I saw this commercial...

Again, rushed to Itunes and bought the album, a full two weeks before it released. It gave me that song, "Viva La Vida" immediately and then, in two weeks, it uploaded the rest of the album. But for two weeks, I was out cash for an album that didn't even exist yet.

I really dig the visuals that they used for that commercial. The colors and textures are so trippy and incredible. I want to get stoned and watch an entire movie using that color scheme and animation style.

It's months later and this is the latest Ipod commercial.

And of course, I fucking love THAT song too. And I'll probably need to go download that too. That song is "Around the Bend" by The Asteroids Galaxy Tour. I just checked Itunes and those kids don't have a whole album yet. Just a few EPs. But they sound pretty good to me. So, I'll probably pick them up off of Itunes and bounce around the city to them.

I feel guilty for being to easily influenced by these commercials. They shouldn't drive my buying habits, but the reality is, they do. I take some consolation that in most cases I'm not buying the big ticket item that they're shilling to me. But it still feels a little embarrassing to admit that they get me with those commercials, but they do.

While we're on the topic of advertising that appeals to me for reasons that I can't explain, I have to make a brief mention of the E-Trade baby. I normally don't truck with Talking Babies. Normally it looks creepy as Hell, but for some reason, the E-Trade baby appeals to me. Maybe it's the natural posture of the baby and how the words seem to match his little mood and positioning. I don't know why it works for me, but it does.

Here's the one with the clown that you probably saw during the Superbowl this year.

But this is the first one that I saw and the one that still makes me laugh, when I see it.

I have no interest in online trading. Or having a baby. But every time I see that E-Trade baby pop up in the commercials that I'm fast-forwarding, I stop and watch it.

Now, if only there was a song that I could go download from Itunes featuring that baby singing along with a catchy beat.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Love Hurts. by dandydwarves!

2008-11-08T20:01:00.002-06:00

Saw this over on j's blog.

Absolutely hilarious.

Enjoy.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Bearded I Will Be.

2008-11-08T15:29:00.003-06:00

It's winter.

I've decided it.

My feet are cold and I can hear the wind howling past the front windows and yesterday I caught tiny hail stones on my tongue on the walk back from the bank, bundled up like Randy from "A Christmas Story".

It's winter.

And the nice reprieve of moderately warm weather that we enjoyed for the OBama rally on Tuesday was the last breath of Fall, before she gives over to Winter, altogether, the whore. Two weeks of Fall, already gone.

And in recognition of this fact and because it's going to be cold again and because my body marks the changing of the seasons, I've decided that it's time to grow out my beard again. I shaved for the last time on Thursday of last week. Sure, I'll tend the neckline and trim the cheeks and keep it from getting unruly, but bearded I will be.

In a month or less, I will look like this...

And I will feel better for it, because "Beards Are For The Fall."

Cheers,
Mr.B

Ménage à Trois of The Mind.

2008-11-08T15:02:00.003-06:00

It's Saturday and at 3pm, I am still in my pajamas. Which is exactly how I wanted to spend my Saturday. Slept in and have been at this computer for 3 hours, downloading music, adding album covers to the ipod, following up on email, reading news and surfing blogs.

On Friday, a local blogger discovered me and made contact and today I am following up and reading her blog. I followed a link on her sidebar and found another prodigious blogger. And I am flipping between them, back and forth, while album covers synchronize on my ipod. Ironically, because they're friends, they keep on popping up on each others comments and this actually feels like a dialogue between them, that I'm listening in on.

They are both young, eloquent, sexy, smart and deeply searching for something that they haven't found yet. And because they're both mired in the formless, grey muddiness of early twenties through mid-twenties, they're both anxious about who and where they are.

I want to reach out to both of them and say, "Relax. You're exactly where you're supposed to be, for who you are. You're not going to go insane. Or end up unemployed or crammed into some hateful, demeaning job that you hate. You're not going to end up like your mothers, either. You're going to be okay."

I want to get tea and coffee with these girls and talk and relax and slow them down enough to enjoy who and where they are. The same thing I wish someone had done for me, when I was their age.

They'll figure it out. Things will get better than they are now. One of them will get over the ex-fiance. The other one will meet a guy who is not as cute as she wants him to be, but will treat her like an equal and a partner. And frankly, that's more important than washboard abs and olympic-style tight ass. Again, it's all stuff that they'll figure out on their own.

For the time being, I am enjoying, flipping between them. They're making me laugh. And they're making me smile. And they're making me think and empathize and that's the sexiest thing that any girl (or person) can do.

Diving Back In Between Them,
Mr.B

PS. The very brief wikipedia page about "Ménage à trois" gives some interesting information about the term. It's French, obviously, and translates to mean, "Household of Three", which emphasizes the domestic living style of three people living and loving together. An element that is, I think, lost, when people hear the term used. It's almost exclusively sexual, in contemporary usage. But I'm fascinated by the domestic idea of polygamous co-habitation. It's interesting to me that the term originates from that idea. You can see what I mean, by clicking here.

PSS. A Google Image Search, with no filters on, for the term "Menage A Trois" reminds oneself that A.) the term is almost entirely sexual in it's current connotation and B.) women are amazingly flexible and can fit three bodies into the most unaccommodating spaces. Good Lord.

Blatant, Ugly Racism.

2008-11-07T10:46:00.004-06:00

Took an interesting phone call, the day before yesterday from one of the participants in one of the theater's annual fund-raisers. This lady has been involved with this particular fund-raiser for the past 5 or 6 years, so she's a fixture now. Nobody likes her. She's 90 years old and is a constant source of frustration for everyone involved.

She doesn't remember her lines in the annual fund-raiser show, so the other actors onstage view her as a bomb, waiting to go off.

She asks dumb questions and is frequently distracted by minutae, so she drives the director (our Artistic Director) absolutely bonkers.

She complains about the program, the show, the venue, her part, everyone else's part and other ridiculous things to the point where the administrative staff of the event ignore her phone calls and are openly hostile to her, when they interract with her.

And because I have a seeminly infinite supply of patience and a soft spot for the elderly and senile, I have become her final point of contact in the theater. The only person who takes her calls and fills her requests. And she seems to know it too. She's not shy in her appreciation for me. At 90, I guess you want a few people who don't openly consider you to be a worthless bastard. And despite what I'm about to tell you about her, I'll still be kind and open to my interractions with her.

She called the theater on Wednesday to ask some questions about the upcoming fund-raiser, namely, what she'll be doing and f the theater needs some more help. (I guess she has a lot of free time at 90.) We straightened that business out and then she said, and I quote, "I tell you what, boy, I'm in a terrible mood. I could kill myself or someone else. I'm like a cup of cocoa, ready for the powder. You know what that means?"

"No, what does that mean?" I said.

"Well, it's something my mother used to say. It means that I'm hot under the collar! I'm steamed up! I'm ready to burst! And do you know why?"

"No. Why?" I asked.

"Well, it's because this country has elected a BLACK to the presidency! I can't believe it. I woke up this morning and turned on the news and that's what I saw! A BLACK is now the president! I don't know what's wrong with this country! I guess it's these young people. I guess they voted for him. Did you vote for him?"

"Um, yes I did. And I was at the rally in Grant Park last night and I'm wearing an Obama 08 t-shirt, right now. I hate to tell you this, but I'm one of the young people you're talking about." I chuckled to myself, thinking about that old adage that you never discuss politics or religion, unless you know every person in the room and what they already think. And sometimes, not even then.

"Well, I can't imagine why you would vote for him! He's BLACK! And you're in for a world of troubles, son! How long have you been in Chicago?"

"Um, I got here in 2000." I said.

"Well, you weren't here when Harold Washington was in charge, but you know how the BLACKS are just running amuck downtown? Well, that all started with Harold Washington. You let one BLACK in and they hire all the other BLACKS and then next thing you know, they just take over! That's why downtown is the way that it is! You can just imagine what the whole government will be like! BLACKS all over the place."

"Well, I don't think that will happen. I think -"

"I've been around. Once you spend 90 years or so on this planet, you get to learn a thing or to. You'll see what I mean! Why did you even vote for that guy?"

"Well, I want us out of Iraq as soon as possible. And I agree with his tax cuts for the middle class and regulation of business."

"Oh, none of those things will even happen! That's just the same old things that all politicians say! It's all lies! And if I'm going to be lied to, I'd rather be lied to by a white guy!"

We talked a little more about Iraq and how Obama promises to withdraw American troops by 2011. She offered me a bet, of one drink at the theater bar, that we will still be in Iraq in 2011. I agreed to the bet, with the proviso that we WILL probably still be there, but that our numbers will have to be significantly reduced. And because I was pretty sure that she will be dead by 2011, anyways. And you can't collect on a bet that outlives you.

But in all of that rant and the rant that followed, I never heard her mention, once, the qualifications of the other candidate. I also heard nothing from her about whether she voted or campaigned or did anything to actually affect the outcome of this election. And even if she DID vote for McCain, she did it in the worst possible county in the United States. On Tuesday, when the votes were all in, Cooke County, in Illinois was the single biggest pro-Obama county in the country. According to this map from the Washington Post, 76% of the county voted for Obama and 23% voted for McCain. A difference of 1,083,653 votes between the two candidates. And no surprise, either, as that's our home-town boy there. Of course, we came out for him.

But this lady illustrates two things pretty clearly. First, that racism, when it's blatantly displayed is cartoonishly ridiculous and not a thing to be feared. I'm not talking about the lynchings of the 60's and the Rodney King beating of the 90's. I'm talking about the articulation of the racists argument. It makes no sense, has no rational foundation, and is ultimately laughable. (Racial violence, on the other hand, is a very serious matter and should be taken seriously, because it's a form of civil violence, regardless of the motivation.) I couldn't muster up any anger for this lady, because, well, she's a harmless, inarticulate boob, who couldn't be bothered to vote her crazy-ass, ridiculous world-view.

She also illustrates a finer point that I've only recently become aware of. Racism is the providence of an older generation. And it's dying off and taking it's crazy-ass bullshit with it. There will be another election in 4 years and Obama will run against whichever mud-slinging, empty-rhetoric, puppet for big business that the Repubs choose to prop up (I'm guessing Romney) and although you won't see the tide of pro-active movement that happened this time, you'll see impassioned Americans looking to continue the agendas that they have voted into office this time, versus the aging, dying and increasingly nonexistent racist and bigoted opinions on the right and they'll get stomped again. The progressive movement is owned and pushed forth by the young generations of this country. And they simply don't have time or interest in the racist arguments of the older generations. Young blacks aren't looking for reparations for slavery and young whites aren't looking to bar civil liberties based on race (or sexual persuasion). It's a different social landscape and I think a lot of us didn't realize how different it was until last Tuesday evening.

This older lady and her baseless prejudices are irrelevant. And as much as I and the rest of the progressive movement would welcome her participation in the next great movement in this country, the thing that is holding her back, is herself. And that would be sad, if she were around long enough to actually affect anything.

Moving forward,
Mr.B

I Just Bought A Trike!

2008-11-06T17:04:00.005-06:00

Well, I've been bicycle-less since I moved to Chicago. And I've been car-less, since 2004. And despite my best plans and frequent pleadings to people with money, since the fall of last year, I've been Vespa-less.

Today, I bought the Next Best Thing!

Today, I bought a tricycle!

An Adult Tricycle!

It's currently being used in the mainstage production at our theater! The Lord of the Underworld rides it around onstage. I took it for a brief onstage spin during tech work for Radio Lab, the weekend before last. I liked the feel of it and the easy pace by which a person pedals a tricycle. I also like that it only has a single gear because I never could figure all of that stuff out and being as Chicago is flat, I don't have need for a whole lot of gears, anyways.

The Production Manager mentioned in the staff meeting that it was up for sale. He asked $200 for it. I talked him down to $150. I asked him about the basket and the breaks for it. He agreed to put the basket back on it, but said that he would knock it down to $100, if I put my own breaks back on it. I agreed, with the stipulation that I break down payments into $25 a week. "Sold!" he said, grateful to have it off of his hands. With some of the original cost recuperated.

I can pick it up on Sunday evening after the show closes. I have Stinger rehearsal until 6pm. I'll try to swing by after that, pick her up and ride her home. I think she's going to live in either the unused stairway to my basement. Or I could, when the weather gets nice again, build a little shelter for her, in the area between the two buildings and make sure that she's covered and doesn't get snowed and rained on. I think she'll last longer, if I take good care of her.

I'll ride her to rehearsals. I'll ride her to work. And to the Playground for shows. Well, down anywhere near Belmont, actually. This is going to save me time, as I wait for buses and trains and are perpetually late, because I am standing around, waiting for public transportation. It will be nice to hop on my bike and get going as soon as I get out of my apartment.

Hey, I just noticed how quickly I decided that the bike is a "her" and how quickly I am thinking of her as "mine".

Also, she looks roughly like this...

Nice!

Cheers,
Mr.B

PS. To those who would very obviously point out that this is not exactly the coolest bike in the world, let me respond that I hear you and agree with you. But it's intended to be a unique and interesting form of transportation that gets me from Point A to Point B and makes for pleasant afternoon and evening rides. A tricycle isn't for a "go-getter". It's for a "get-there-when-we-get-there". I'm totally fine with (and even appreciate) the lack of coolness in this purchase.

The Obama Rally Summarized In Four Pictures.

2008-11-06T13:58:00.006-06:00

(click on the pic to embiggen it. Trust me. It's worth it.)

That pretty much sums it all up, right there.

Cheers,
Mr.B

PS. I have added some pics from my own Obama Rally experience here. I think it's safe to say that there's some Hot-Ass Flag Waving Action going on in there.

Good Times, Tempered With Some Concern.

2008-11-06T10:47:00.006-06:00

Well, I've got Obama-mania, just like 52% of the rest of this country. In fact, because you're probably in Chicago, when you read this, you probably have it too. (Statistically speaking that's a safe bet.) Tuesday night I went to the Grant Park rally. It was safer, more efficient and more pleasant than I thought it would be. Even packed in a crowd of 65,000+ people. I had room to stand, could see the monitors and hear the speeches and could even, when on my tippy toes, see the distant stage and the distant speakers. It was wonderful to be a part of a celebration that big. (Imagine, instead the monumental gathering of grievers if he'd lost.) We cheered. We hugged each other. It was a blast. (Pics are available elsewhere on the blog.)

I bought an "Obama 08" t-shirt on Michigan Avenue on the night of the rally. It's the Obama "O" symbol and says "Obama 08" and looks like pressed art, aged and cracked. I dig it. I wore it to work yesterday and people I passed on the street gave me a thumbs up and smiled at me. The unspoken message was, "Yes, we did" passed between each other.

There were some roadbumps on Victory Lane, though. I got an email from a religiously-informed cousin of mine, asking politely that we all pray harder than we've ever prayed before to get this country back on God's Path. I didn't respond to that email. But taking a page from Michael Moore's email out to all followers, I graciously called my pro-McCain, pro-religion, pro-white grandparents and left them a loving message on their answering machine. I told them that I understood their disappointment. I felt the same thing in 2004. I also said that I honestly believed that there was a place for them and their voices and their opinions in an America ran by Obama. That they can't go underground for four years. But could, instead, get involved in a new initiative and make positive change for everyone. I wanted to welcome them into that. I got a terse email back from my grandmother saying that she was "praying hard for this country" and that it wasn't about her and what she was feeling, but was instead about what's best for this country. After getting that message, I called my mom and we had a long, hour and a half long conversation about politics and our crazy, backwards-ass family. And how we genuinely hope that they can relax a little bit from their hyped-up fundamentalist fervors and be a part of the positive changes ahead for our country. It was a good conversation.

In the course of the conversation with my mom, she revealed that my stepdad was in the hospital right now. He's been feeling ill and weak and generally "puny". His words, exactly. They'd scheduled an invasive internal camera into his heart to look at what was going on in there. His xrays and other reports indicated that his heart wasn't working at 100%. If there was some sort of blockage, they would have to operate on him.

I just spoke with my mom and they did find a 99% blockage in the incoming artery of his heart on the left side. The doctor says that they want to open him up and put a shunt in there, holding the artery open and clearing out the blockage. Mike's doctor's name is Dr. Ghandi. He told my mom, "Well, we found the blockage and that's very, very good. It's also positioned in such a place, that we can get right at it and fix it before it becomes a serious problem. By finding this now, we keep Mike from finding it on his own, the hard way." Which scared my mom a little bit, but ultimately reassured her too. As I type this, Mike is in surgery and having his damaged heart repaired. I'll get an update call from my mom, as soon as Mike is out of surgery.

Of course, I am worried about my stepdad. He's a good man and good husband to my mom. He keeps her happy and loved and looks after her. She loves the house that they've restored together and although he's a big bear of a man, he is as gentle and patient with her, as she needs him to be. I don't even want to think about losing him. That's just not an option right now. And luckily for us all, it's not even a probability. By undergoing this surgery, right now, we increase the chances for having him around for many years to come. My mom is scared. She broke down on the phone with me, just now and cried a little bit. I reassured her and told her that it was okay to be scared. I'm going to call her in a little bit and listen, let her vent a little bit and give her a big pep talk. That's the best that I can do, from this far away.

Life is good. Today is a good day for my country. And as positive as the bigger picture is, there are still the day-to-day challenges that need to be addressed. There is the bloody business of keeping a single heart beating, so that it's owner can enjoy this better world.

And hey, if you can, go call your parents and tell them how much you love them. Do it for Mike.

Cheers,
Mr.B

EDITED TO ADD: Just called home. Stepdad is fine. He was conscious through the whole operation and is up and awake now. I told him how impressed I was by his stamina and that I wouldn't want to fight him in a dark alley. He laughed groggily and told my mom that he was ready to go home. Wow. That man lives fiercely.
So, all is good.

From "Yes, We Can" to "Yes, We Did" to "Yes, I'll Go!"

2008-11-04T17:45:00.005-06:00

"Yes, We Can!"

Woke up this morning feeling like it was Christmas morning. I can shake off eight years of disappointment and shame and actually stand up straight for a bit. (I haven't felt this relaxed and hopeful since we crossed the Canadian border in August into Toronto. I breathed a sigh of relief then, too.) Joe got up with me pretty early, we walked around the corner and voted a straight democratic ticket. I was in and out in 30 minutes.

"Yes, We Did!"

My ballot receipt is tacked up here in my cubicle and I am so proud of it. I didn't end up voting in 2004. I felt, at the time, that Kerry was so solidly going to take Ilinois that he didn't need my vote. I worked late and left the office thinking, "I think Kerry might actually take it." The next day was a depressing, depressing shocker. I remember that I actually wanted to go home early and not think about how fucking stupid a slim majority of the country, actually was.

Voting today, though, totally supplants that old, bad memory. Joe and I joked, as we walked home, that we can change "Yes, We Can" to "Yes, We Did!" It was a good start to the day. And my ballot receipt is a nice reminder of that.

"Yes, I'll Go!"

All day today, the talk of the day has been WHO got tickets to the big Obama rally in Grant Park. And who didn't. And who is going. And who isn't going. And what it will probably be like and how crowded it will probably be. And so on and so forth.

I had decided not to bother going. I was dreading the crowd. Like "Taste of Chicago" all over again. And I was dreading the push to get on public transportation BACK into the city, after it was over. It might just be a disaster.

I called my friend, Leeann and asked her what her plans were. She was going to watch the returns from her living room. She offered me a cozy place on the couch next to her. I accepted. I thought we might order pizza and watch the news together.

So, it was with some surprise, that I got a call at 5pm, asking me if I wanted to go to the rally with Jenn. She got her ticket in the email. And has room for a +1. And her boyfriend, Abey Baby, doesn't like crowds. So, I was invited.

Entering The Park. Talking to Mom On The Phone, Giving Her Play By Play.

Instantly, there's a new plan! Race home, change clothes, grab camera, pet the pooch, wave goodbye to the roommate and now I'll race back to the theater to meet up with the group and head down to the Million Plus Person Obama Rally. If I get lucky, I'll get a spot near the stage or at least near a Jumbotron and watch the man I support accept the position of president of the United States.

I admit that I am actually really excited by the whole idea of it. Once in a lifetime, baby. Once in a lifetime!

Grabbing his coat and hat, running for the bus,
Mr.B

EDITED TO ADD PICTURES:

The VG/Greenhouse Democratic Faction.

Chris and Anne Watch The Jumbotron For Updates.

Jenn Shows Her Obama Pride!

Watching The Returns On The Jumbotron.

Someone Near Us Passed One Of The Big Flags Around For Everyone To Hold.

For a Time, I Took Up The Flag, Before Passing It Along.

Yeah, That Was A Pretty Big Moment.

Virginia Is For Obama Lovers.

VICTORY!!!

Strange Day Today.

2008-11-03T20:22:00.003-06:00

Been sick with a chest cold, coughing, spitting up nastiness for a week now. Today, I intended to take the day off from work and recuperate at home. Got a call last night from the building manager at the theater. An electician, not paying attention to what he was doing, surged power through the office, frying four of our computers. We didn't know if it was the power supplies for the computers or the motherboards. But we had four computers that wouldn't turn on (and three power strips that smelled of ozone and burnt wire). So, the Day Off To Rest And Recuperate went away.

Got to work on time today, to catch the affected employees and warn them of what was going on. Ended up putting them on other computers in the office, while I took their computers apart and prepped them for transport to our IT companies office. All day long, people looked at me and said, "You look like shit. Are you still sick? You should go home." Ate some chili from Potbelly's, loaded the computers into the Education Directors car and told my boss that I was going home after I left the IT office and getting some rest.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I'm sick. I was sick all last week and I came in because we were light-staffed. I know you've heard me coughing and hacking at my desk. I want to take some time and actually get some rest." I said to her. She didn't get that I wasn't even supposed to be there at all, that day, but had come in for the fried computers. She asked me to tell everyone what was going on and then go home and get some rest.

Drove downtown and a simple drop-off turned into a "come upstairs and let's test these guys". Tested two computers of the four (mine and one of the others at random). Nothing. New power supplies failed to get any reaction from the two motherboards that we hooked them up to. They were toast. Made orders for four new towers, expedited shipping and got out of there.

The Education Director drove me home and we talked about the election and the upcoming rally. The day was so nice outside. It was lovely to be "working", but out of the office, at the same time. Got home, took the dog out, laid down for a short nap.

Slept for four hours straight. Woke up in a dark apartment. The dog was in the kitching, grabbing up mouthfuls of dog food and walking into the hallway to eat them there. I missed the entire rest of the day. I was that tired. That sick. It's a strange thing to sleep four hours away and miss the entire end of the day. It feels unnatural to me. As unnatural as driving around in the middle of the day and hanging out in my IT office and going home at 3pm. It was a day totally outside of my normal routine and schedule.

Tomorrow, I get up at 6:45am, shower, get dressed, go vote for the Democratic candidate in the presidential election, go to work two hours early to pick-up the four new computers, begin setting them up before the other staff even gets into the office, work a full day at the theater and then consider whether I want to head downtown to brave the rally. Or if I want to just come home and watch it on tv, sick in bed.

Another strange day, following the strange day that I just had today. (Only this one will end with a little bit of hope.)

(Pics from) The ABSOLUTELY LAST performance of "The Sickest F***ing Stories I Ever Heard".

2008-11-03T19:46:00.005-06:00

Last Saturday was our ABSOLUTELY LAST performance of "The Sickest F***ing Stories I Ever Heard"* and we invited our storytellers to come out and share their favorite stories with our audience, sans table. It was them, alone, with their story and a microphone.

The best story, epic in it's telling and depravity, was Chris Meister's tour-de-force telling of the "Mexican Donkey's Show" story. It involved close friend, drugs, Mexican prostitutes, a donkey's show, baby laxative, a Mexican farmacia and a burned out car ride back across the Mexican-American border. It was absolutely incredible. So much so, that we let him run long with it, just to hear how it ended. (Sadly, that meant that we had to cut two storytellers at the end of the show, Alan and J.Ben, but they were cool about it and it was an epic story.)

Here's Chris, looking dapper, and regaling us with his incredible story...

(pic credit goes to the excellent Fuzzy Gerdes.)

This guy looked pretty good too...

(again, Fuzzy Gerdes.)

You can see all of the pics from the show here. Lisa's costume is not to be missed.

The whole show was a hit. And as you could probably guess, it was not the "ABSOLUTELY FINAL" performance of the show. It was actually the "ABSOLUTELY FINAL" performance (of 2008). As host of the show, it was my pleasure to give the audience context for each storyteller. (ie, the titles of other stories that they told or the cast that they played in). It really gave me a nice context for the show. We've been running it for over a year now and we've had some wild stories told and some crazy shit happening onstage (trick-shooting with my exterminators b.b. gun, for example). Fuzzy, Greg and I are looking ahead at 2009 and figuring out cool ways to add to what we've already done and make 2009 an exciting year for the show, too. I can't wait to see what the new year brings us!

Cheers,
Mr.B

Happy Halloween: The French One Man Thriller.

2008-11-01T13:03:00.002-05:00

The lovely Crescent posted this over on CIN. I thought I would share it here.

Just a little more Halloweeny goodness to get you through the weekend.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Happy Halloween from The Onion.

2008-10-31T11:04:00.002-05:00

Watched this on vidcast on the bus yesterday and giggled outloud.

Thought you might like it too.

Happy Halloween, everybody!

PS. If you're looking for something fun and alternative to parties and whatnot for tonight, we're hosting a special "one night only" screening of the 1968 "Night of the Living Dead" movie at the Bio Graph tonight. Pre-show will be a screening of old 1950's sci-fi and horror movie trailers and there will even be a cartoon feature before the film. Popcorn will be served. BYOB and BYOSnacks, also there will be a costume contest. Get there before 10:30pm, as we're closing the doors then. (You should also comment here, to let me know to look for you.)

Batman vs The Penguin: The Debate

2008-10-30T23:12:00.002-05:00

My roommate, Joe, showed this to me, last night.

I guess we finally see where John McCain got his basic talking points.

The Penguin.

Holy Unintentionally Accurate Depictions of Modern Politics, Batman!

Cheers,
Mr.B

My Weekend With Radio Lab

2008-10-29T00:27:00.020-05:00

This weekend, Radio Lab was in my theater for two performances. I got to play "the foley Sound effects guy" for a little bit in their show. The best part of the weekend was getting to hang out with the entire Radio Lab crew. Jad, Lulu, Ellen, Robert and Zoe.

I had my camera with me all weekend long and took a ton of pictures. These are some of them.

A Very Sensitive Boy.

2008-10-29T00:03:00.004-05:00

Zombie movies scare the ever living shit out of me.

So, it's with some understandable trepidation, that I am going to be helping organize the VG movie night on Halloween night. Matt, the event organizer, has selected the 1968 "Night of The Living Dead" movie as the Halloween movie. Sure, it's a movie classic. And perfect fare for a Halloween night. And because I'm showing the pre-movie trailers and the Mickey Mouse cartoon before the movie, I'm obligated to stick around for all the scary, brain-eating mayhem which follows.

But I know, without any question, that it's going to disturb me. Zombie movies do that to me. I think it's a mix of several things that scare me about zombies. It's the pathos of how they turn you, against your will, into something you definitely do not want to be. It's their slow, patient stalking ability. They don't need to run. They'll eventually overwhelm you with their numbers. It's the horror of seeing a loved one turned into a mindless killing machine. And sure, the cannibalism is pretty horrific too.

More than aliens, ghosts, vampires, underground worms, devils or killer dolls, zombies are the genre of film that zeroes in on my particular fears and pushes my particular buttons.

So, tonight, while flipping around, I found myself watching the 1985 movie, "Return of the Living Dead", I knew I couldn't watch it for long. I thought, "Hey, this is the one that's set in Louisville, Ky, my hometown" and so I watched a bit of it.

And then a medical corpse reanimates and slowly has it's head sawed off and I thought, "Fuck. I need to change this channel, right now!"

But then Linnea Quigley took her top off and did a sexy dance in a cemetary, nearly naked and I thought, "I can stick it out. This isn't that bad."

But then, we got to the part where the "good guys" are about to cremate the medical cadaver, which spreads the gas, which animates the corpses and I turned the channel.

Because I knew what was coming. I've seen the movie before. The corpses in the cemetary rise up and kill off all the quirky 80's stereotypes in the cemetary, one by one.

And if I stick it out and watch the movie, I'll be defending myself from zombies, in my dreams, all night long. So, I watched a little bit of "The Daily Show", came in here, blogged this out and now, I'll go to bed.

With any luck, I'll dream about Linnea Quigley's boobs, instead.

Happy, Day Before The Day Before The Day Before Halloween, everybody!

Cheers,
Mr.B

The Sickest F***ing Marketing Poster I Ever Saw.

2008-10-29T00:01:00.003-05:00

Boom!

You've just been marketed to.

Now go see the show, bitchaz!

Cheers,
Mr.B